


I Write Sins, Not Tragedies

by cuttlemefish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Attempted Seduction, Fandom, Fanfiction, Fluff and Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rich Viktor Nikiforov, Rich Yuuri Katsuki, Romantic Comedy, Social Media, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, They adopt kids, Thirsty Katsuki Yuuri, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov, Unconsummated Marriage, Writer Katsuki Yuuri, extra happy ending, their families and friends think they bang on the regular, they don't even sleep in the same room, this is the longest slow burn, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttlemefish/pseuds/cuttlemefish
Summary: Things would be a little easier if Yuuri wasn’t so in love with his husband Viktor, especially considering they have an arranged marriage. Two years after their wedding, Yuuri and Viktor are incredibly in love, but can’t seem to get over the hump of their platonic union to consummate their marriage! Good thing Yuuri is the most (in)famous erotic fanfiction author of the Love in the Streets fandom. Now, he’s got the support of the Internet to figure out how to seduce his husband, if only he can continue to keep their identities a secret. Or, the AU in which everyone thinks Yuuri and Viktor have the perfect marriage full of adventurous sex when, in fact, Viktor sleeps in the guest bedroom and Yuuri writes erotic fanfiction to quench his thirst.





	1. Chapter 1

Here’s what Yuuri’s Internet friends know:

  1. Yuuri is the most famous author in the _Love in the Streets_ fandom. 
  2. Yuuri has written 94 stories for fandom, all of which have smut – dirty, a-penis-is-called-a-penis, overly descriptive bouncing and sucking and HBO call-girl style dirty talk type of sex. (“Reading Yuuri’s stories is, like, how I feel after listening to 1990s Diddy, you know?” Isabella explains, the sound of papers fluttering in the background to signal that she’s using her thesis as a fan.)
  3. Yuuri suffers from anxiety and can’t always handle interacting with too many people in the fandom at one time, but he’s also actively trying to get more comfortable in groups, so the _Server_ is some type of social experiment, even if he only participates in the chats once a month. (“Good for you, Yuuri,” Emil tells him the first time he gets invited to join the secret voice channel. “And thanks for letting me join!”)
  4. Yuuri is gay and married (going on his second year with a ring on his finger), and he’s head over heels, completely, _stupidly_ in love with his perfect spouse, who just so happens to be a retired professional athlete (and, as such, courtesy of Mila, “must be a walking wet dream.”)
  5. The rock on Yuuri’s finger is a family heirloom in his partner’s family and it’s _huge_. (“That’s some Rockefeller shit right there!” Seung-Gil says, sounding just a little disgusted. “They fucking named a rock. A rock.”)
  6. It was an arranged marriage (and the details of the whole negotiation are completely foreign to both, that is Yuuri and Codename: The Husband). (“No wonder you’re so good at arranged marriage AUs,” Georgi hums.)
  7. Yuuri doesn’t have a job, but he always has money to buy anything he wants in fandom.
  8. The Husband has a standard poodle, which Yuuri considers his adopted son. Codename: The Poodle, as Yuuri calls him to avoid giving too much information about himself away, is the light of Yuuri’s world, and the two of them spend a lot of time in a spacious two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan dancing and singing to old Motown songs, waiting for the Husband to get home so they can have their daily romantic walk in the park at sunset.
  9. Yuuri and the Husband keep separate bedrooms. The Husband was decent enough to give Yuuri the master bedroom. Yuuri swears the master bedroom closet could be a third bedroom, at least somewhere in New York City (and Sara challenges him to lay on the floor and see if he can touch all four walls with his limbs. When he confirms he _can’t_ , Sara confirms for him that his closet is, in fact, probably a bedroom and a bathroom in probably, like, 98% of New York City.)
  10. The Husband adores Yuuri. (“No man texts you at noon to ask ‘What does my love want to eat tonight?’ I’ve been married 4 years, Yuuri, and my husband hasn’t once asked me what I want to have for dinner!” Isabella gripes, shocking the entire squad because, wow, Isabella’s husband sounds inconsiderate.)



This is what Yuuri’s Internet friends don’t know:

  1. Yuuri is married to Viktor Nikiforov, retired skating legend and Olympian.
  2. Yuuri, like his husband, is heir to an impressive fortune, the type that would have Seung-Gil gagging on Voice Chat (VC).
  3. Yuuri’s been writing so much smut for years because he’s sexually frustrated.



And _this_ is what Yuuri’s Internet friends are about to find out:

“You’d think after almost _two_ , count them, _two_ years of marriage he would have at least tried once to get me naked!” Yuuri drawls into the microphone attached to his earbuds. He hiccups, stretching out his legs on the sofa, relishing in the fact that he has the apartment completely to himself.

(It’s lonely, but he’s not about to mention that to his friends. He’s just grateful that he can use their voices as filler for the silence permeating the apartment. They help drown out the voices nagging at his brain, the ones making him count by how many minutes Viktor has missed his evening check-in.)

Viktor is on travel and Makkachin has long decided to leave Yuuri alone to mourn the fact that he’s stuck in a sexless marriage, despite the fact his husband seems to have no problems holding his hand in public or kissing him when they have breakfast together in the mornings. He’d like to think he’s been patient. It’s not like he’s ugly, etiher. Yuuri’s been told he’s very attractive his entire life. He doesn’t exactly believe it when people tell him as much, but he’d like to think he’s a least _creative_ and flexible enough that he could give Viktor a good time, if they could just get on the same bed.

(It’s not like they haven’t been stuck with only one bed in their entire married lives. Neither of their families know that Yuuri and Viktor haven’t consummated their marriage, so, naturally, they are always provided with a guest bedroom with one bed. And, every time, Viktor proceeds to sleep on the floor.)

“Wait, what?” Seung-Gil says, and everyone stops laughing. Suddenly, the whole _Yuuri is drunk_ thing doesn’t feel like much of a joke. It’s the first time any of them have heard Yuuri drunk. The novelty, though, dies the moment Yuuri sounds like he’s about to cry, or hump a pillow. Yuuri is a little ashamed to admit he already has the pillow between his legs. “What do you mean after almost two years?”

“Yuuri,” Sara sounds worried, as usual. Her voice is soft, “are you, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yuuri, are you trying to tell us that your husband has never tried to initiate sex with you?” Isabella, as always, blurts out, not even trying to be discrete. In the background, Yuuri can hear her husband choking again. “JJ! I told you to go hang out in the basement.”

“I’m telling you all my husband has never had sex with me, period,” Yuuri says, and letting his secret out in words feels like releasing some heavy rock he’s been holding for months (though, maybe, that’s just his ring – the rock _is_ huge). There’s a collective horrified gasp in the voice chat. It’s what Yuuri imagines his libido sounds like, only with added screaming.

“What do you mean after almost two years you’ve never had sex with your husband?” Mila squeaks. “Oh my god, Yuuri, no wonder you write so much erotica. You’re starved. And, apparently, you’re also masochistic, putting all the stuff you don’t do on paper, or super creative? I don’t even know any more!”

“No,” Yuuri giggles, taking a long swig from his wine bottle. “Guys, remember, we don’t even sleep on the same bed, not even in the same bedroom!”

Seung-Gil is the next to speak, sounding, for once, completely shaken with the truth Yuuri has dumped on them: “Oh my god. I mean, I thought it was, like, some experimental thing. You know, therapists now say that keeping your own space allows you to continue feeling ownership of your identity outside of a couple. I thought, maybe, you two just got off on knowing you had your own space but could _choose_ to be together. That was before I started hearing about all the things he does for you. Before that, I think some of us had discussed that maybe you two just didn’t like each other. Who knows how it works for contract marriages…”

“I’m surprised that he wouldn’t have ever, uh, tried,” Emil chimes in, always optimistic. “Maybe he’s been waiting for you or the right opportunity, since it’s been long past what’s acceptable to proposition your arranged marriage husband? – It’s like that one story AsamiK wrote. You remember the one where Charlie and Tony fail to consummate their marriage on the first night of their arranged marriage and then Charlie keeps waiting for Tony to make the first move, but Tony is too afraid to make a move because it’s been so long that he feels, like, maybe they’re just stuck as friends. Maybe it’s like that?”

“Oh, I love that fic!” Mila gushes.

(Everyone loves that fic. Yuuri loves that fic. He’d cried reading it, balancing his iPad on his knees while stuffing his face with imported guava ice cream. Next to him, Viktor had watched him with worry, hugging Makkachin close to his side, but not bothering to ask Yuuri why he was crying.)

Yuuri grows pensive. His mind is buzzing with the fog of alcohol, but he wades through it, thinking through Emil’s words. It’s not like he hasn’t read AsamiK’s _If Not You, Then Me_. He’s studied that fic, really pondered over every line in the hopes that somewhere tucked between Charlie performing the dance of a hundred fans and Tony decorating a nursery there’s some magic answer to his perpetual dry spell.

“Maybe that’s it,” Yuuri slurs, sighing, “maybe I need to do it like a fanfic. Like in capriciousmagpie’s _Throw Me a Bone(r)_.”

“You can’t do it like a fanfic if you can’t even do it like a one-night stand, not to mention that fic was full of acrobatics. I call bullshit on James and Steve banging in the back of their mustang. Like, they can barely fit, much less be doing each other like pretzels,” Seung-Gil tells him, sounding every bit as snarky as when he complained that his job didn’t let him bring his dog to Bring Your Child to Work Day. (“Look, if Cheryl from Finance can bring her newborn snot nosed baby in the stinky diaper, I should be able to bring my glorious, fully potty trained fur child.”)

“Hm, maybe not the right fic,” Yuuri giggles. “Maybe krizariel’s _Pretend I’m Someone Else_?”

“Maybe you build up to TMB,” Mila muses, “but you’re onto something. There is that one scene in PISE where Charlie tries to seduce James by wearing his shirt and it did work great for me when I tried it on that hockey player.”

“I think it only worked on that hockey player because your boobs popped all the buttons,” Sara laughs.

“Are you seriously throwing me shade in Yuuri’s time of need? How dare you! I’ll have you know one of those buttons hit him straight in the eye and we had to spend the night holding hands in the ER. It was super romantic.”

Yuuri _knows_ he’s onto something.

“Okay, well, maybe let’s not advise Yuuri to maim his husband,” Georgi interjects. 

Yuuri groans, “guys, I just don’t understand. I’m a good husband. I make him breakfast, like yummy things, not cold cereal or whatever. I take such good care of our dog. I keep the house pretty: Do you know how hard it is to find an original Jackson Pollock? I’ve even been good about keeping our finances – just last week I made us a nice million in the stock market!”

“Sometimes hearing about your life is surreal,” Sara whispers.

“Well, shit,” Seung-Gil gasps, “if he won’t fuck you after that, _I’ll_ happily fuck you if you start managing _my_ investments.”

“But why won’t he fuck me, Sara?” Yuuri cries.

There’s a long, drawn out moment of silence. It’s not exactly a question any of them can answer. None of them know the Husband.

(Seung-Gil sends Emil a Direct Message, typing rapidly: _Maybe he’s straight?_ – But he never receives a response. The idea is now floating through the code of the Internet, though, and inside Emil’s head, unbeknownst to Yuuri.)

“Why don’t you start by moving into one bedroom, hm?” Isabella advises, and Yuuri thinks she’s right, even as his eyes begin to droop. Isabella has the nicest voice, like a singer, only a little higher, but never shrill. She may be onto something: Perhaps they just need to break their physical distance to finish bridging their emotional connection. Maybe (just maybe) Viktor needs more of an emotional connection before he can get an erection. Yuuri is more than willing to give that to Viktor. “Ask him to start sharing one room, one bed. It’ll give you more of an excuse to be physically close to him. Eventually, sex will follow, if he’s attracted to you and recognizes that moving into his room is your attempt at letting him know that it is okay to want more from your relationship.”

“It’ll help you guys talk, too,” Sara says, “pillow talk at night, just relaxed together at the end of the day with your legs intertwined? It’ll be really romantic and sweet and it won’t make him feel pressured if there’s an actual reason as to why he hasn’t been, uh, intimate with you.”

“Think of _If Not You, Then Me_ ,” Georgi speaks next. After a beat of silence, he tries again, “Yuuri?”

“Yuuri?” Emil calls his name. “Did you hear us?”

By then, Yuuri is fast asleep, snoring softly against his arm. He dreams of one hundred fans flapping all around him as he dances around a pole for an excited Viktor. When he wakes up, he’s drooling on his phone, while Makkachin drools on his face.

-

Yuuri spends the entire morning wringing his hands in the airport, waiting patiently for Viktor to leave the terminal with his bags.

When he spots Yuuri, he smiles, perfect and soft and blinding, like he could bottle a star for Yuuri if only he asked. (Yuuri can barely ask Viktor to sleep in the same bed, though, much less for the constellations.) It’s the type of smile that makes Yuuri feel rooted in the certainty that Viktor loves him, too. Viktor drops his bag, stretching out his arms, and Yuuri practically runs to meet him halfway, letting his husband bring him into a sweeping hug and off his feet in a spin that ends with their mouths locked together, desperate and hungry for breath, for taste, for the lingering effect of their tongues barely grazing at the edge of their lips. And Yuuri’s hangover practically disappears.

He's so eager to get drunk off Viktor.  

“Viktor,” he smiles, their foreheads pressed together. “I missed you.”

“Me too, lapochka,” Viktor says in Russian, sending a shiver up Yuuri’s spine.

There’s something about Viktor speaking to Yuuri in another language that makes Yuuri feel like he could (what’s that phrase again? Oh right!) _wet his panties_ , except he doesn’t wear panties. It’s a term Isabella has used too often – so many times, in fact, that it’s eternally ingrained in Yuuri’s fanfiction writer heart. _Like dams breaking down and flooding down her legs,_ he thinks, looking a little constipated as the thought passes through his head.

It had been a terrible line.

As Isabella’s beta, Yuuri had killed it instantly, whitening it out with the power of track-changes.

When Viktor’s thumb presses against his bottom lip, Yuuri realizes that _now_ is not the right time to be thinking about panties or dams or bodily fluids, at least none that he cannot get from his husband (“You know,” he tells himself, “the one you’re trying to seduce.”)

Vikor chuckles, “everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yuuri says slowly as his feet touch the ground again. He looks up at Viktor. “Better now that you’re back home. Or almost home.”

“Hm,” Viktor nods, grabbing his bag from the ground before taking Yuuri’s hand in his own. Yuuri’s palm is sweaty, but he doesn’t even care with their fingers twined together. “Did Phichit confirm dinner tonight?”

“Yup!” Yurui beams, hoping if he shines bright enough, maybe Viktor will notice something different. “It’ll be Phichit, Chris, Leo, and Alex. Oh, Alex is Chris’ new boyfriend. Do _not_ embarrass him. His last name is Mystery. It’s all very unfortunate.”

“Me?” Viktor gives Yuuri a cocky grin, and Yuuri can tell that he’s plotting something sinister, “I would never!”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, leading them in the direction of their car, “Vitya.”

“I’m so hurt!” Viktor pouts, dropping his bag in the backseat. “Does my own husband not trust me?”

“No,” Yuuri says, already slipping into the driver’s seat.

Viktor slides into the passenger’s seat, crossing his arms petulantly, “I’m _trouble_ , he says. He’s the one who judges the poor guy based on his last name. _It’s all very unfortunate_ , Yuuri says. I think it’s kind of cool. Like a secret agent name. Ah, Yuuri, what if he _is_ a secret agent?”

“You’re not going to behave, are you?” Yuuri shakes his head, knowing well his husband’s trying his hardest to play up his childlike charm. He can’t help but smile, though. It’s nice to have Viktor back, filling the space and silence that otherwise consumes Yuuri’s life when he’s gone. _Viktor is like fireworks_ , Yuuri thinks, wishing he had pen and paper to write it down.

(When Yuuri married Viktor, there were surprise fireworks at the end. Yuuri had walked out into the balcony with Viktor and their hundreds of guests, the air biting at his exposed skin even as he tried to nuzzle his cheeks under the thick fabric of his coat. Fireworks had ripped through the silence with color and speed then, sending everyone into cheers and laughs so loud, Yuuri had stumbled right against Viktor.

Viktor had opened his coat, draping his arms around Yuuri, like he was wrapping up a special present of his own, and he’d whispered things in Yuuri’s ear. And by the time the fireworks had ended and everything was blanketed by the smell of powder dust and buzzing silence, Yuuri had felt the ringing in his head, like a distant memory of blood rushing to his ears with the same power of a punching heartbeat.)

Since then, Viktor is just like fireworks. Even the silence after Viktor feels exhilarating. It sings his body into movement.

“Would you like me more if I behaved?” Viktor asks, sitting up to brush down the lapel of Yuuri’s raincoat.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, before he whispers fondly, “I don’t think I could like you more than I already do.”

- 

The thing is that his plan should work. But, it doesn’t.

Viktor walks into the apartment behind Yuuri and finds that Makkachin is too busy sniffing at some boxes in the corner to pay much attention to the return of his owners. Yuuri can see frame by frame how Viktor’s brows furrow, slowly inching towards the center of his eyebrows, and Yuuri just wants to touch the bridge of his nose.

There are parts of Viktor, spaces that show so much emotion, that Yuuri always wants to touch, poke, fill with a part of himself. _That sounds so dirty,_ he admonishes himself, except he knows he doesn’t mean it that way at all. Yuuri just wants to fill every nook and cranny that is Viktor (“That sounds worse!” he tells himself). He wants to find every space taken up by an emotion that is not Yuuri. He wants to pervade Viktor’s every waking thought and dream and desire. He wants to become air, if it means Viktor will breathe him in and leave no part of himself unexposed to Yuuri. _Now I sound crazy_ , Yuuri sighs, closing the door behind them. But, that’s the crux of his problem: Yuuri _wants_.

“Yuuri, are we redecorating again? I really didn’t mean it when I said the sofa felt too narrow.”

“Hm?” Yuuri steps around him, setting his plan into motion. “Ah, sorry! No, we’re not. I mean, maybe? I got a little restless last night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Viktor asks, moving to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist to bring him flush against his chest. “You should always call me when you’re feeling anxious.”

“I wasn’t, though,” Yuuri tries to pull away, “I just. I was thinking last night how we don’t have space for a nursery, and your room is smaller. I mean, I guess we could always convert my closet into a nursery. All the people on Discord tell me it’s big enough, but I don’t like the idea of keeping a baby in the closet.”

Viktor stiffens around Yuuri. It’s not the reaction he was hoping for by far. It’s not even the _right_ kind of _stiff_ either, but Yuuri feels more than hears Viktor’s gasp before he’s being spun around to face his husband, who looks delighted. Delighted is an understatement. Yuuri has no words for the carefree happiness that flitters over Viktor’s face with the same softness as the pitter patter of baby feet.

“Yuuri!” Viktor practically sings, pressing both palms against Yuuri’s cheeks to bring him closer, “ _Yuuri_! Are you, are you saying that you want us to bring a baby into the house?”

“I’m saying our apartment currently doesn’t have space for a baby, Viktor,” Yuuri clarifies, but can barely hide his own smile as he bites at his bottom lip coyly. Now that he has said the word baby and seen Viktor’s reaction, there’s not a single part of Yuuri that doesn’t want a baby. It’s a shocking revelation. They’re probably going to have a baby together before they even get to blowjobs. Yuuri is strangely okay with that for the first time in his entire married life. “I was thinking, maybe, if we consolidate into one room—”

Viktor lets out a shaky breath, “Oh, Yuuri, you don’t have to go through the trouble of giving up space for our baby. We’ll just have to find a bigger apartment that can accommodate Anastasia!”

“Anastasia?!” Yuuri squeaks, “Who is _that_?”

“Our baby, of course!”

“Viktor,” Yuuri laughs, relieve flooding through his body (at the same rate as despair begins to seep down his pants,) “Anastasia, really?”

“She’ll be a princess!”

“Okay,” Yuuri whispers fondly as he brushes Viktor’s fringe back to look at both his eyes. “Anastasia. But back to consolidating into a single room—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Yuuri!” Viktor pecks his lips, already walking away, “I’ll call our real estate agent right now. We’ll find an apartment with four bedrooms right away!”

“ _Four_ bedrooms?” Yuuri gasps, feeling like he’s already spiraling further into the bog of anguish. How did he go from two rooms to four? How much space can his husband need? He almost wants to cry. “Viktor, where are you even going to find a four bedroom apartment in New York City?”

“One for Anastasia and another for her brother, of course,” Viktor clasps his hands together, practically twirling in his excitement. “Ah, yes, Yuuri, you’re right! We need a house!”

 _Two babies_ , Yuuri thinks, destroyed that Viktor would even think of getting them a house rather than just moving them into one room. _And still two bedrooms, one for him and one for me._     

Viktor pulls Yuuri by the hands, eyes sparkling even as he gives Yuuri that preternatural heart-shaped grin. Yuuri is helpless against that smile. He lets himself be pulled, physically and figuratively, by Viktor’s excitement, trying to smile through the shock still prickling at his brain. Yuuri has successfully managed to talk his way into two babies and a brand-new house. He has failed spectacularly at getting his husband to move into the master bedroom and fuck him, though.

- 

“Okay, but that means he was receptive, right?” Isabella tells him as Yuuri hides in the bathroom, trying not to hyperventilate. He can hear the clattering of pots and pans as she cooks lunch. “He was emotionally vulnerable and probably with a little more prodding would’ve caved. There’s a reason a lot of pregnancy reveals are followed by sex in the movies, and it’s not just the excitement of barebacking it. People feel emotionally close, connected by a baby.”

“I can’t bring a baby into this apartment in the hopes my husband feels emotionally in sync enough to have sex with me!” Yuuri screeches. “Isabella!”

“Did you even try to make a move?”

Yuuri takes in a deep breath, “yes! I said, and I quote, _how about we celebrate_? And he said, _great idea! We’ll tell all our friends tonight!_ So I had to call Phichit to change the reservations to some five star restaurant and, like, he already found an excellent lead on a three bedroom in the building next door. It’s only been two hours!”

“Which means he’s excited. Just play into it, Yuuri.”

“Maybe I should try something else…”

“No, of course, you’re right. Getting a baby to fuck your husband is the type of thing that only happens in fanfic!” Isabella chuckles. “Next thing I know you’re going to tell me you actually want the baby!”

“I actually want the baby,” Yuuri whispers, only marginally ashamed.

Isabella gasps, “oh my god. No. No. I’m not, you know what, no. I’m not even going there with you. Nope. I’m going to finish making this lasagna and then I’m going to eat half of it, instead of cutting it into appropriate portions for my meal planning. And while I’m eating all that deliciousness, I’m going to pretend that what you just said to me is just the plot for your next fic, okay? Yes. Good. Bye Yuuri!”

Yuuri stares at his phone while sitting on the toilet.

And then, he remembers Mila.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, thank you so so so much for all your wonderful comments. All of you commenters keep this story alive and I'm so grateful for you. I'm super late in replying back to everyone (it's been a hard month), but I'm working on getting through all comments today, and I really am so grateful to all of you that take the time to leave a few kind words behind.

This is what Viktor's Internet friends know:

  1. BrickBooty (BB) joined the Body Fit Buddies (BFB) forum because he was previously a professional athlete hoping to stay in shape post-retirement, despite having a husband that never worked out and friends that hated healthy foods. BFB seemed like "a nice place to hang out, hope that's okay!"
  2. BB (double-B, not B-B) is the Big Boss. His protein shakes will get you that _ready body_ you’ve been trying to get for years. Do  _not_  call him Baby. That earns you instant n00b status and BB's bros will fuck you up (“With words, bro, with words, we're not savages.”)
  3. His protein shakes also cost a shit ton of money, so they all highly suspect BB is rich or making serious money. When they've asked, though, BB says he's a Trophy Husband, so they all think the money must be coming from his husband.
  4. Speaking of which, BB is gay with a serious crush on Yuuri Nikiforov, the guy that's married to former pro-skater and Olympian Viktor Nikiforov. Once upon a time, BFB was a chill forum for buff dudes to document their workouts, like a diary, until BB  _accidentally_  posted a thread called "On Yuuri Nikiforov's Lips." And then things quickly devolved from there... 
  5. BB is a good writer. His series "On Yuuri Nikiforov's..." helped the forum grow from a measly 25 to a rocking 50, and they've all become close friends, giving zero judgement, 100% support, and becoming more accepting, gorgeous individuals in general ("But protein shakes, bro.")
  6. BB has serious access to Viktor Nikiforov, like they work out in the same gym! The "Viktor Nikiforov Inspiration" thread is kept secret and hidden for long-time group members only to ensure no paparazzi is making rounds ("Buzz killing vultures!"). 
  7. BB is respectful. He has access to his long-term crush, Yuuri Nikiforov, but he's never tried to make a move on him because Yuuri Nikiforov is married and so is BB (although there are _theories_ ). 
  8. BB has a Tumblr love advice blog that has changed their lives. 
  9. BB knows a lot about relationships, except his own. 
  10. BB is married. His husband (aka Darling Hubby, DH) is a self-reported 1000/10, but they've never slept together. 



This is what Viktor's Internet friends don't know:

  1. BB is Viktor Nikiforov, retired pro-figure skater and gold medalist at the Olympics.
  2. BB is rich, because Viktor Nikiforov was born rich (thanks to his parents). 
  3. BB is married to Yuuri Nikiforov, because he is, well, Viktor Nikiforov (although his crush on his own husband is at least 100% true).
  4. BB sleeps in a separate room, away from his husband.
  5. BB also participates in a Viktor Nikiforov forum under the username _GoldBlades_ , where he has the supreme honor of getting hate for focusing so many of his posts on Yuuri Nikiforov.



And this is what they're about to find out in the forum chat box:  

 

**BrickBooty** : GUYS! DH just told me he wants us to become parents! I don’t even know what to do with the news!

**Viking:** Okay, bro, congrats, but when you gonna make a move on Yuuri Nikiforov?

**BrickBooty:** Ah, Yuuri Nikiforov, my eternal love. Still gorgeous. Still sooo taken. Maybe in another lifetime. But, DH and baby, fam! That’s such a big step forward. I don’t even know what to do, I’m so excited.

**HeyHayley:** Hey BB, any help? I seem to be stuck on shedding some pounds and concerned the shakes aren’t helping. I was told I need to get in more greens and lower my sugar. Sounds impossible with vanilla and banana.

**BrickBooty:** Honey, hi! Sounds like you need something a little more serious. Let me send you my smoothie challenge. We can find some low sugar fruits to make it tolerable.

**MickeyYouCFine:** Hey, can you post that smoothie challenge for the whole forum? How much can you lose?

**BrickBooty:** It’s an intense detox, Mickey. Liquid vegetables on raw vegetables on nuts and the most satisfying thing you’ll eat all day are two hard-boiled eggs or some tuna, but you will get all your nutrients and see serious results. If you stick to it, you’ll lose about 10-15 pounds in 10 days. More with the workouts.

**Viking:** Shit! For real?

**BigSlim:** Losers! Ya’ll talking about shakes when BB just shared he’s gonna be a dad?

**Viking:** But shakes, bro.

**BrickBooty:** I should go. We’re making a big announcement tonight. I’ll be back soon to post those smoothie recipes. Hang tight!

-

Viktor remembers meeting Yuuri when they were children. He’s not sure why he thinks about it now as he finishes looping his tie, admiring his handiwork in the mirror, but he thinks about their first summer together.

Their parents had been close business partners even back then, constantly trying to vacation together to discuss business, and Viktor had been dragged along each time to entertain the Katsuki heirs, Mari and Yuuri. Yuuri was younger than Viktor by a year, but in those years, that distinction had been major, and Viktor could still remember being an impatient six-year-old kid thinking he was grown, much too old to play with five-year-old babies. He’d run everywhere with Chris that summer, little Yuuri chasing after them, crying out a barely-there, “Vicchan, please wait for me!” – Viktor had never been very patient, though, and he was always one step away from jumping into a sprint. He’d felt immense relief once he’d been sent away to boarding school in St. Petersburg and the long summers with the Katsukis ended.

“And then you had to grow up,” Viktor sighs, resting his forehead against the fogged mirror.

(The thing is that Viktor hadn’t exactly planned to return home after the Olympics.

But like a good son, he heeded his mother’s advice and returned home for one of her many parties. Bored with a glass of champagne in his hand, Viktor made rounds for a good hour when his mother looped an arm around his arm to pull him deeper into the crowd. He heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed that she was leading him in the opposite direction from the Katsuki parents – the last thing Viktor needed was Toshiya asking him about his future. Viktor wasn’t ready to retire, much less retire _and_ get married.  

“Viktor, honey,” she whispered, dragging him along. Viktor had always known his mother kept her secrets hidden in the one-sided dimple of her smile. That night, the secret had been large enough to make her glow, her smile ready to burst with the weight, and he should’ve known to run in the opposite direction, “Remember what we talked about?”

“We talk about a lot of things, Mama,” Viktor chuckled, taking a long sip from his glass, “you’re going to need to be a little more specific.”

“Oh Vitya,” she sighed, not the least bit upset as she licked her lips, “the Katsukis? Yuuri?”

“Oh, you mean the wedding that’s definitely not going to happen?”

She pouted, pausing to brush his lapel, “Behave. I don’t want you offending that sweet boy. If you really, really refuse to consider the marriage, then we’ll discuss it with your father, but the Katsukis at least expect you to see your fiancé tonight, considering our main excuse was that you were too busy working towards this gold medal. Now you have it. And you’re—”

“Fine, fine,” Viktor shushed her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I’ll find Yuuri later. Can I have five minutes, though?”

“Fine,” she waved him off. “But five minutes, Vitya.”

“Five minutes, promise,” he smiled, taking that as his cue to search for Chris. Instead, he managed to slam into one of the guests, who looked disoriented the moment they had taken a step back to assess the damage. A glass of champagne chattered on the ground is the only residual harm, and Viktor relaxes. The stranger in front of him had been beautiful, and seeing him had felt like a punch in the stomach.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Oh,” the stranger gasped, blinking owlishly before brightening with a hint of familiarity that (frankly) Viktor hadn’t been able to place back then, “hi.”

“Hi,” Viktor returned the blinding smile, reaching blindly for his handkerchief before handing it over. The stranger seemed dry, but he made the effort to be polite, whispering, “Are you alright?”

  
“I’m fine now,” he replied, like there had been some secret between them – soft and tender, just like the press of something undiscernible growing in Viktor’s chest. “If it isn’t the man everyone is celebrating today. You know,” he’d said with a lilting, coy tone, “I’ve been looking for you, but you’re hard to track down. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.” 

“Me, avoid you?” Viktor asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t add, _in what universe would I ever run from you_?)

Viktor knows he’s taking too long when Yuuri knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Viktor says, not bothering to move too far from the bathroom mirror. He blows playfully at the fringe of his hair before locking eyes with Yuuri from his reflection. Yuuri dips his head shyly, a small flush to his cheeks.

“I was just coming to let you know that I’m taking Vicchan and Makkachin for a quick walk around the block before we leave. They probably should go out now, since we’re leaving soon,” he tells Viktor, brow fruncing as he notices that Viktor has left some clothes littered on the ground. He sighs in tender exasperation, bending down to pick at Viktor’s pants and shirt, pausing only for a second when he’s face to face with his underwear. Viktor has half a mind to run to take the clothes away from his hands, but he doesn’t. “You’re so messy, Vitya. That’s why I bought two hampers, one for the bathroom and one for your closet.”

Viktor watches Yuuri drop his clothes in the closet hamper. He studies Yuuri in his bedroom, moving seamlessly between the bed and the closet makes him look like he belongs. And, technically, he does. Viktor would love nothing more than to have Yuuri constantly in his space, filling the remaining corners of emptiness in their otherwise warm and happy home.

“You didn’t have to clean up, you know,” Viktor chuckles, leaning against the frame of the bathroom.

“I know,” Yuuri grins, giving him a wink, “but someone has to take care of you. I’ll see you in fifteen?”

Viktor nods, taking a few fast steps to cup Yuuri’s face and bring him into a kiss, “make it ten? Fifteen is five minutes too long. I’ll languish without you.”

Yuuri shakes his head, flushing bright pink, “you’re ridiculous. But fine. See you in ten.”

(Viktor remembers that they danced for most of the night, barely speaking to each other in anything other than the roll of their wrists, ankles, and hips. 

His mother looked at Viktor with an approving smile, and Viktor had assumed she was trying to stay positive around her guests. Eventually, the they moved away from the crowds into a more secluded room.

“Do you want to go somewhere private?” his companion asked, breathing hard as he rested a shaky palm on Viktor’s arm. Viktor had nodded, desperate to finish unwrapping the surprise in front of him.

Viktor’s father had a studio with shelves on shelves of books, some of which acted as makeshift bar for the countless glass bottles of rum, whiskey, vodka, and designer alcohol. His companion walked by them, letting his fingers dip into the crevices of the glass.

“So,” he said to Viktor, turning around to press his back against the column of the shelf and undo the buttons of his jacket to flare a hand down the expanse of his chest, and Viktor had fallen _hard_. If he’d been a little less coordinated (and not had the reputation of an Olympian to uphold), he would’ve dropped to his knees and worshipped the man in front of him. Instead, Viktor tried to bite his tongue, making up bad epithets about _pomegranate lips_ and _caramel eyes_ melting him from the inside. It was the kind of stuff he would write in a notebook and bury, if not burn. “What exactly are we supposed to do in here? I’ll have you know I’m a respectable gentleman, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow then, watching as a pair of strong arms settled around his neck. There’d be something edging on dangerous between them the entire night, like a game Viktor wasn’t sure he was playing if not for the sparkle in the other man’s eyes.

“Ah,” Viktor gulped, trying to extricate himself from the trap. It was one thing to have fun. A few dances were innocent. Anything more than that, though? – It would have been like asking his parents to flagellate him. “Look, I just. I’m engaged.”

Viktor also had no ill will towards Yuuri Katsuki. He’d been a nice kid, and it didn’t help that was the exact image that remained branded in Viktor’s mind. Yuuri as a child, even if he knew well neither of them were children anymore. They were engaged and adults, ready to embark on a journey into married life together, even if neither wanted the same.

“Yeah, I know,” the other man chuckled, licking his lips before trying to press their mouths together.

“Wait, you do?” Viktor asked, shocked that the other man would _try_ already knowing Viktor was promised to someone else.

“Yeah, you’re engaged,” he repeated, undoing Viktor’s tie, “I’m engaged. We’re engaged to each other, silly. We can stop playing now. It was fun, but I think we can go ahead and get rid of all the pretense. And all these layers, too, right? I’m so proud of you, Vitya. I’ve been watching all your competitions—”

“I’m sorry, what? Wait, _Yuuri_?” Viktor asked, taking an unsteady step back only to hit the edge of the desk and wince.

“Yeah,” Yuuri confirmed, looking confused. “Viktor, are you okay?”

It’s another metaphorical punch to the gut. The first punch felt more like a mirage now – a trick of lust telling him what he should want and couldn’t have. The second punch is the complete opposite. To think of the irony, the world laughing as he held Yuuri’s hips boxed between his hands, being told explicitly that _this_ belonged to him, that this was something he _could_ have, even if he should not want it, if only to keep his pride.

“Ah, Yuuri, I can’t believe it’s you. You’ve, uh, grown,” Viktor repeated, taking in deep breaths. The pain spread quickly from his butt cheek to his hip and thigh.

“Wait,” Yuuri stared at Viktor that night with the emerging horror of a man having stepped too close to death. Viktor, too, feels just the same. “Are you telling me you had no idea you were dancing with your fiancé? I mean, with me? Who did you think I was?”

“I don’t actually know,” Viktor confessed, barely breathing from the pain of a pinched nerve in his butt. He doubles over, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s shoulder. “Can we maybe discuss this after we get me to an ER? I don’t think I can move very far right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, resting his cool hands on Viktor’s forehead. “Oh gosh, you’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you? It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”)

Viktor stares after the closed door, sighing. Even back then, Yuuri had taken it on himself to take care of Viktor first, even before himself. Despite feeling obviously hurt that his own fiancé had been flirting with him under the pretense of trying to flirt with someone else, Yuuri had tucked his pain away and helped Viktor limp his way into a car and stayed with him all night at the hospital.

It hadn’t been a severe injury, thankfully, but it had been enough to take him off commission for a week with some painkillers. And Chris, of course, had laughed, hearing the entire story – including the part where Viktor shared that he was on bedrest because he’d managed to pinch a nerve that made his butt cheek clench and hurt.

(“He’s a keeper, Viktor,” Chris said, patting his hand as he ate his red gelatin cup. “You should marry him.”

“Well, I don’t have much choice.”

“True,” Chris pointed with the spoon, laughing, “but you have to admit it could be a lot worst. At least he’s hot.”

“He’s also incredibly pissed off at me, and I don’t even blame him because he caught me trying to cheat before we’ve even had the official engagement party!”

“In your defense, you did say you were engaged. You tried to be a decent person.”

“Yes, and he thought I was trying to be, I don’t know, coy?”

Chris laughed, “he’s a _freak_. He thought you were trying to pull some kinky roleplay. I like him. Marry him.”)

“And I did marry him,” Viktor mutters to himself, dropping on his bed to stare at the ceiling.

- 

Dinner is a terrible idea. Yuuri returns from his walk with the poodles smelling of winter. A precious dusting of pink dyes his nose and he looks so soft Viktor wants to bring him into a blanket fort and cuddle with him for the rest of the afternoon while they discuss potential baby names. It’s not that Viktor isn’t fully set on his future daughter being a princess and having a princess name, but he also wants an excuse to sit with Yuuri between his legs, his head resting on his chest while Viktor reads to him under a mountain of blankets. It’s not a pleasure he’s allowed himself to have often, knowing that, even if Yuuri has his name and his ring and his love, he can’t expect the same from Yuuri – who could easily choose to walk away from their arrangement the moment their contract is done.

_Almost two years down_ , Viktor reminds his head, since his heart is fickle with information. The traitorous, less logical part of his brain echoes back with hope, _eight more to go, though, and he could always choose to stay!_

Viktor wishes he could retract the dinner invitation, but Chris and his boyfriend are already there, ordering a couple bottles of wine for the table. Phichit spots them first, and immediately gets up to snap a few pictures of them. Yuuri walks ahead, pulling Viktor gently with such a sweet, tender smile that Viktor’s entire body sighs in need.

“Hey guys,” Yuuri says, and Viktor pulls a chair out for him. “I see we got started early on the alcohol. Oh no, Viktor and I aren’t drinking tonight.”

Viktor sees Yuuri flash him a playful smile, and he squeezes Yuuri’s hand under the table.

Chris throws Viktor a dirty look, “Is this one of Viktor’s weird diets, Yuuri? Because you don’t have to follow him into austerity.”

“You know, my vows did say in good times and bad times, in sickness and in health,” Yuuri reminds Chris with a smile. Viktor tries to hide his smile as he sips on some water. Yuuri is practically buzzing with excitement, shifting to look at Viktor every couple of seconds. “But no, we’re actually not drinking because we’re expecting.”

“Expecting what?” Chris deadpans, wafting a glass of wine.

“A baby,” Viktor laughs, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with you not drinking? Unless you’re trying to tell me there’s something different about your biology than I thought, I’m not following. No sex is so good that it can get a man pregnant, not even yours Viktor,” Chris takes a long sip from his drink. “The best part about having a baby and not having to carry it _is_ that you don’t have to worry about giving up sushi or alcohol or—”

“Pregnant women can’t have sushi?” Alex, Chris’ boyfriend, asks, looking horrified. He fans himself with a menu, reaching for his own glass of wine to start chugging the contents. “Well, we’re definitely _not_ doing that to a woman. I will not be part of the inhumanity that would deprive anyone from sashimi, or alcohol. That sounds barbaric. Not to mention I’m not doing diapers. But we should get another cat.”

Chris nods, looking pensive, “two cats.”

“Yes,” Alex says, clutching tight to Chris’ bicep with a look of absolute love and devotion at the idea of two kittens.

Viktor gives them both a confused stare, licking his lips, “ _oh_ -kay? I don’t know what to say to all of that other than good job Chris, you obviously have found your soulmate. He knows less about women and babies than you do.”

“Don’t be bitter because I’m getting new cats and you’re getting a spit-up machine,” Chris wags his finger at Viktor before pouring wine into two glasses. “Okay, so now that we all know, here’s your drinks. Drink up, because I ordered a case. Okay, not a case, but a lot of wine. Yuuri, drink.”

Yuuri takes his glass, but his eyes remained fixed on a catatonic Phichit.

“Phichit, did you hear us? – About the baby?” Viktor tries again, waving a hand over his friend’s face.

“Oh my god,” Phichit drops his phone and doesn’t even bother to retrieve it as he starts clapping. He turns to the rest of the restaurant, filled with quiet couples on fancy dates. “Oh my god, everyone, my friends are pregnant! Their love was so strong that they’ve defeated biology!”

“Phichit,” Yuuri laughs, bending over the tabletop to grab Phichit’s shirt and pull him back down. “Stop it. We’re getting a surrogate. Or we’re adopting. We don’t know yet.”

“So you’re _not_ pregnant,” Chris corrects, toasting with his boyfriend.

“But we’ve decided we’re going to be,” Viktor clinks his glass with Chris’ own, giving him a smirk. “Be happy for us.”

“I am happy for you,” Chris smiles, “I’m happy you get to change diapers, and I don’t. Because I don’t want to. Anyway, I actually wanted to ask you two for a favor, actually.”

“Oh?” Viktor hums, reaching for some bread and butter. “You want some, lapochka?”

“Yes, please,” Yuuri nods. “What’s the favor, Chris?”

“I have a friend who works for this magazine and she’s been trying to interview you guys for months. I don’t know if you’ve seen some of her articles? Sara Crispino. She works for a lot of publications in New York. She’s doing a series for the New York Times on love and she would _love_ to do a celebrity feature on you both. I told her you’re both the most in love couple I know and she agreed,” Chris beams. “So, how about it?”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri’s friends know a lot about his (embarrassingly long-time) crush on his own husband (since he was four). The thing is that Yuuri was a real-life ugly-duckling story, if only because at some point the whole world started tripping over itself to reassure him he’d turned into a swan – even Viktor. Yuuri’s not so sure he’s a swan, per say, not when Viktor _still_ makes him go to the gym together.

(And Yuuri’s not even going to deny he’s very bitter about it. He’s always been thick, but at least he was also always blessed with taut thighs. He doesn’t need to work those muscles when they were born hard. It’s a natural gift and Viktor needs to stop making Yuuri feel like he needs to earn his curves, not after all the years Yuuri spent questioning if he even wanted them in the first place. But every morning, he drinks his dark coffee, adding more and more sugar as he watches Viktor in his tight, quick-dry gym clothes trotting in place, and Yuuri thinks, _yes, okay, let’s go chase that ass_.

Once he makes it to the gym, though, he often decides that _ass_ isn’t exactly worth it, not when Viktor randomly takes pictures of his abs for the Internet like he doesn’t realize Yuuri owns those abs for at least ten years.)

Truth is that somewhere between the winding road of two going on three years old, Yuuri developed a soft roundness to his figure that matched his baby cheeks. By four, while his friends had started to grow lankier, Yuuri remained relatively short, with a round belly that peeked under the hem of his summer shirts. At five, it wasn’t exactly cute so much as unfortunate: “He’s just big-boned,” he would hear from adults, who would pinch his cheeks, and give his mother bless-your-heart eyes beneath big, rebellious pulled up curls that scared Yuuri and tricked him into thinking that all those women must have secrets – many, many secrets trapped inside their heads.

“I didn’t know what big-boned was,” Yuuri whispers to his wine glass, barely hiccupping as he speaks to his laptop mic. “I thought it meant my bones were, I don’t know, irregular looking or something because my parents were, you know, I mean, I looked just like my mom and I still think she’s the most beautiful woman in the whole, wide world. It took me a bit to realize they were calling me fat. Because I was fat, guys.”

“Children are seldom fat, especially babies. They’re just pudgy,” Isabella offers innocently during the call.

“I’d show you pictures, but I didn’t bother bringing any into the apartment because I was a little embarrassed. The Husband has the cutest baby pictures. They’re all immaculate, like he was painted onto the shot. Meanwhile, I was definitely the kid that would go to the doctor’s office and overhear him tell my parents that they needed me to lose some pounds because I didn’t fit well with the trajectory of the medical growth chart…”

“I think you’re just idealizing him. All kids are cute,” Emil reassures him.

“What? No way! Some kids are just plain ugly,” Seung-Gil says, completely aghast. It’s a truth Yuuri knows, though, so he just shrugs and serves himself another glass of wine. “Look, I have seen some kids. There’s a reason the phrase _a face only a mother could love_ exists.”

“Seung-Gil!” Mila admonishes him.

“I’m not saying Yuuri was one of those kids. But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend every baby that pops out of a bloody vagina is adorable and born of sunshine, glitter, and unicorns. Some kids are snot machines with stinky poop and big red foreheads and misshapen bald heads, and some are still stinky gifts but with pretty faces so we forgive them.”

“All babies are beautiful,” Emil sighs. Yuuri knows his boyfriend recently popped the question and they’re trying to figure out a good time to get married and, shortly thereafter, have babies. It’s been Emil’s dream since he was a kid and the amount of kid fic on his dashboard proves he’s been bitten by something.

“I was a pretty baby,” Yuuri admits, almost proudly (and pauses when Viktor drops some cheese and crackers on the table next to him, kissing the top of his head as he says, “Of course you were, the prettiest baby, Lapochka. I have pictures!”) and then deflates when the door closes. “I just wasn’t a very cute kid after the age of seven.”

“Oh! Was that The Husband?” Isabella squeals. “His accent is sexy.”

“His entire existence is sexy,” Yuuri complains.

“Hm. Maybe it’s a thing? Like, you can only be one thing at any point in time? I wasn’t that nice looking as a baby,” Mila chimes in with a laugh. They’ve all seen pictures. Yuuri thinks she looked just fine. He doesn’t understand: Mila has always had hair red like fire, and Yuuri just can’t imagine her being anything but stunning, even as a child. “I was a little redder than pink all the time, maybe to make up for the lack of hair back then!”

“Not I,” Seung-Gil scoffs, and Yuuri can almost imagine him filing his nails, again, “I was a cute baby, adorable kid, hot teenager, sexy adult… watch me, I’ll probably be a silver fox.”

“That’s like the Husband,” Yuuri mourns. It seems he’s always mourning Viktor recently.  

“Yuuri, stop it,” Isabella groans. “I bet he’s not all that. There has to be something even he’s embarrassed about.”

“Yes,” Yuuri says on automatic, “his forehead.”

“His forehead?” Sara chuckles. “Really? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri sighs, “nothing’s wrong with it. He just doesn’t like his forehead, says it’s too big. Like I said, he’s perfect. It’s a perfectly fine forehead; he has very elastic skin. He’s going to live forever, or look young forever. Meanwhile, I’ll eventually grow love handles and get round and lose my hair.”

“Why would you lose your hair?” Mila chides, “Yuuri, you’re being silly!”

“That’s love talking,” Georgi cries, “I used to feel the same way about Anya.”

But Yuuri knows better. It’s not just love.

He remembers being five and dragged to spend a summer at the country club. Mari had ignored him the entire trip, too busy listening to the same five songs on loop to notice that her baby brother was having an internal crisis about making friends. Unfortunately for Yuuri, there’d been no one his age, so he’d been stuck with Viktor and Chris. Stuck makes it sound like Yuuri didn’t want to be around Viktor all the time. In fact, Yuuri had taken one look at Viktor – Viktor with his big blue eyes and long lashes and high ponytail and cool light-up shoes with _laces_ and he’d felt his heart jump to his throat. He hadn’t known what that feeling was, exactly, not back then, but it was the same feeling that would haunt Yuuri whenever he would visit the Nikiforov estate with his parents and make a beeline for the Family Wall to search for the newest picture of Viktor. His eyes would search hungrily, amazed as year after year Viktor shed a little more of the softness of childhood and blossomed into something between handsome and stunning.

It had inspired Yuuri, but no matter what Yuuri did, he didn’t seem to transform at the same rate.

“It won’t happen overnight!” Mari had told him, hugging him one night.

But then it had, in fact, happened overnight. Suddenly, it seemed like everyone wanted to spend time with Yuuri. Girls giggled with him, at him, all the time when he was around. Guys asked him on dates, like cute guys, the kind of guys Yuuri used to imagine approaching Viktor. And, all the while, Yuuri would touch his giant engagement ring with the long family history and expensive-sounding name, and watch his fiancé on television, gliding on ice like a god in expensive, shiny, bedazzled spandex.

“Guys,” he says, downing his glass like a shot. “I’m going to bed. Talk later?”

“Sure, but cheer up, okay, Yuuri? I’m sure your husband thinks you’re sexy, too,” Mila tells him before they all start logging off one by one.

.

Yuuri’s not sure why he’s thinking about those things now. A dinner with their close friends isn’t the time to worry about gym time with Viktor, but he supposes it’s all because Chris said the reporter’s name was Sara. It’s impossible not to think about his friends when he hears names similar to theirs, like he’s hoping maybe someday he’ll run into them.

Interview question to be determined later, per Viktor (who reminds Yuuri they need to look at their travel schedule because “I’m taking you to Barcelona for our anniversary, remember?”), they have an opportunity to enjoy the rest of the evening. Or, Viktor enjoys the evening while Yuuri suffers in silence.

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t want or try to be romantic, but Viktor is an exemplary gentleman and leaves Yuuri with little opportunity to fill his glass or butter his bread – not when he can’t do that for himself. So, Yuuri decides he needs to step up his game before he gets hot and bothered, again, without Viktor. He sheepishly eats his appetizer, trying to look inconspicuous as he slips his foot off his shoe and rubs it gently against Viktor’s calf. Viktor gives him a surprised smile as he sips from his wine glass, arching an eyebrow that gives them away easily.

“Are you playing footsie?” Phichit whines, reaching for the last biscuit. They were supposed to save it for Leo, but an hour into the evening and no one is thinking about anything other than hunger. Well, except for Yuuri. He’s thinking about his thirst.   

“No!” Yuuri denies loudly. This wouldn’t exactly be the first time they’ve been caught playing footsie, but Yuuri would rather avoid having his friends think they’re trying to get frisky under the table. It’s like adding insult to injury whenever his friends think they must be having sex all the time. “No footsie here!”

“Yes,” Chris says in monotone, yawning as he rubs circles around his boyfriend’s knuckles. It’s obvious they haven’t even bothered to stop.

“I was talking about _them_ ,” Phichit laughs, nodding towards Yuuri and Viktor. There’s not even a hint of surprise in his voice. “I know _you’re_ playing footsie, Chris. You’re always playing footsie.”

“We’re not playing footsie,” Yuuri tries to deny again. His voice squeaks, and Viktor hands him a glass of water, making sure to rub circles on the lowest point of Yuuri’s back. When Yuuri looks toward him, Viktor sighs, rolling a wine of glass with his free hand. His wedding band winks under the light, and Yuuri knows it’s pointless to beg: “Viktor, tell them.”

“We’re not playing footsie,” Viktor says, obedient and bored. And then adds shamelessly, “Not anymore anyway.”

Yuuri gasps, slapping his husband’s chest with his napkin, “Viktor!”

“Well, we’re not,” Viktor grins, looking exceptionally smug.

“I knew it!” Phichit grins, elbowing Chris. “When do you think the honeymoon stage will wear off for those two, huh? Two years in and still playing footsie. You guys are so adorable. #RelationshipGoals!”

Yuuri groans into his hands, hoping he can hide under the table, but Viktor has other plans. He pulls Yuuri back to the dancefloor until they’re pressed flush together and Yuuri can hide his face against his husband’s chest. There’s some soft jazz playing in the background and Yuuri knows everyone is now looking at them because they’re the only couple swaying by the dessert caddy.

“Why do you like embarrassing me?” he asks, pouting against Viktor’s lapel.

Viktor laughs, pressing his cheek against Yuuri’s temple. His skin feels soft, and Yuuri wants to not just touch, but feel and let his fingers press down to press over Viktor’s pulse and see if he, too, feels his heart skip beats when they share the same air.

“It’s not that I _like_ embarrassing you. You’re just extra cute when you blush,” Viktor whispers.

Yuuri is about to say something flirty, or he thinks it’d be flirty, but it’s at that moment when Leo comes running towards the dinner table, slipping on a sports jacket. He slides easily into the seat next to Phichit, looking sheepish as he says, “hey guys. What did I miss?”

“Yuuri and Viktor were playing footsie,” Phichit tells him, loud enough for Yuuri and a couple of nearby tables to hear him.  

“Aww,” Leo gushes, eagerly taking a glass of wine from Chris. “That’s so cute.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri huffs, until he feels Viktor’s arm tighten around his waist to bring his attention back to him.

.

Look, Yuuri is going to blame it all on the alcohol.

They stumble back into their apartment, barely holding onto each other as they reach their living room. The poodles don’t even bother to look up from their dog bed, barely registering that they’re back as they roll over to face the wall. Viktor simply shakes a small paper bag, smiling as he tells their four-legged children, “I brought you guys leftover filet mignon for breakfast!”

Yuuri laughs, holding onto Viktor’s arm as he sways; they’ve both had too much wine, and maybe a little vodka. If they’re not sick in the morning, Yuuri is sure they won’t learn their lesson. Viktor drops the bag on the coffee table, turning to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist. They lock eyes for a long time, studying their faces with the pink haze of alcohol. Everything feels wonderful right now, even the heat that has spread all over Yuuri’s skin.

“Your lips are all stained,” he says, reaching down to nibble on Yuuri’s bottom lip. “I’ll help you clean them.”

Yuuri returns each of Viktor’s sloppy kisses, laughing when they barely reach the edge of his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Viktor to miss on purpose, taking his time tasting the salty veneer of sweat that pooled at the edge of Yuuri’s jaw during dinner. When he has his fill of Yuuri’s lips and chin, Viktor moves down to Yuuri’s neck, fingers swiftly undoing Yuuri’s buttons in search for his clavicle, and Yuuri gasps, barely unable to contain the tick of his hips against the hardness curving in Viktor’s pants.

When Yuuri’s knees buckle, he pushes Viktor onto the sofa and traps his lap between his thighs.

“Lower,” he orders breathlessly, taking Viktor’s hands and helping him find the hardness of his hips and the roundness of his ass. When he’s managed to get Viktor to gain leverage over him, Yuuri lets his fingers tangle in his hair.

 _This is it,_ he thinks, feeling as Viktor’s lips go slack against his skin. This is the closest they’ve ever been to rutting against each other. _He probably wants to move this to the bedroom_.

Yuuri’s not sure he could make it to the bedroom. He realizes then that his aim will probably be a little sloppy, too. It won’t be a memorable first time, but so long as they get to the main event, Yuuri’s sure they can always convince each other for an encore. _Damn alcohol,_ he curses, barely registering the moment Viktor’s hands fall from his hips and his head slacks back with a soft thud.  

.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Mila squeals through Yuuri’s speakers and into the entire apartment. “So, you guys did it!”

“No,” Yuuri pouts, feeling just a little bit nauseous again. “We woke up on the sofa with clothes and erections. And then Vik—the Husband threw me off his lap because, apparently, he was late for a meeting with his former coach. He hasn’t been back since then.”

“The Husband’s name starts with a V?” Emil asks.

“Uh, no,” Yuuri lies, wincing in pain as he reaches for some ibuprofen. “That was a hiccup. I have the hiccups. Sorry. Anyway, point is that there was no sex. We both fell asleep. I feel like I’m dying, and we are probably going to call a couple of adoption agencies later today to figure out next steps on the baby, assuming V—the Husband makes it home before it’s time for a late lunch. Anyway, let’s stop talking about me. Didn’t someone else have something exciting to share? – I feel like someone said they had exciting news. Please, anyone?”

“Yes! Me!” Sara says, clapping her hands. “Guess who is interviewing celebrities?”

“You?” Seung-Gil deadpans.

“Yes, me! And be a little more excited, will you? I told you all I had connections. So, a long time ago I interviewed Christophe Giacometti and we sort of became friends, and I saw him again recently while he was in New York, and I told him that I’m doing this new series on love in the city and how my dream would be to interview Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov and he said he’d talk to them!”

“Who the hell is Viktor Nikiforov?” Seung-Gil says.

“Only you wouldn’t know who Viktor Nikiforov is,” Isabella huffs. “Okay, so it sounds like he’s going to ask them. How did it get from _ask_ to _interview_?”

“Are you kidding me? Famous Olympian? Like, heir to the Nikiforov group of companies?” Sara says, ignoring Isabella completely.

“I got nothing,” Seung-Gil laughs, “Sorry!”

“As in rich, handsome, and happily married to the cutest bean in the world?” Mila chimes in, “Come on. Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov? How do you _not_ know who these people are, like they’re always on television and magazines, oh my god just Google it!”

Yuuri feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s not sure it’s only because of the alcohol anymore.

“Chris sent me a message because he had dinner with them yesterday and apparently Viktor said yes.”

“Oh, so Viktor, huh? You say that like you know him already,” Mila giggles. “You need to take lots of pictures and ask lots of invasive questions, Sara! And share the whole thing with me. I love them so much. They’re so cute together. Like, everything they do is relationship goals.”

“Yeah, it’s gre— _oh_. Emil just texted me. He says he’s sorry he’s running late for the emergency chat but Mickey started a new gross diet from that crazy fitness forum and now kissing him tastes like kale with banana and blueberries and he’s not sure he can talk without wanting to throw up. _If anyone has advice, send NOW_ , he writes. I have nothing for him, other than to tell Mickey to stop going online to talk to this so-called BrickBooty.”

“Gross,” Isabella commiserates. “And BrickBooty? Is that the name of the fitness regimen he’s on?”

“No! It’s a username.”

“Ew, and why?” Seung-Gil agrees easily. “To both.”

“I don’t know,” Sara says, sounding just as disgusted. “I’ve told Mickey he needs to cool it with these diets. Emil is a good guy. He could do better than kale kisses. Ugh.”

“Hey, Yuuri, you alright over there?” Mila asks, worried. “You’ve been really quiet.”

Yuuri had sort of known that the world could be small, but he’d never exactly thought it would be _that_ small.

“Fine, I’m fine,” he whispers. “Sorry, no, I’m not. I’m hungover. But that’s really exciting news, Sara! And I’m so sorry for Emil. The Husband loves green smoothies, so I understand his pain. Tell him to have a small bottle of mouthwash handy at all times. That, and ginger gum. It helps settle the stomach. Also, he is totally in his right to ask Mickey to wash his mouth after chugging those down. The combinations are supposed to be optimally healthy, but gross. The last time the Husband went on his green smoothie kick, he did the entire diet – no foods that were not in a pre-approved list, and he was cranky for days because his special Swedish chocolate protein bars and the one brand of popcorn allowed hadn’t come in yet.”

“Okay, so buy Mickey expensive popcorn and international healthy candy bars, got it,” Sara giggled.  

“So,” Mila brokered the silence, “anyone want to sprint? I have a big bang due date coming up way too fast and I haven’t even broken 5K yet.”

“Oh sure!” Yuuri offered, relieved there was an opportunity to move away from the very dangerous conversation that was Sara’s potential interview. He had a lot to think about: On the one hand, doing the interview could be disastrous if Sara recognized his voice; on the other hand, not doing it would break his friend’s heart and possibly affect her career. “Uh, just let find my charger.”

“I’ll join, too,” Georgi said, “it’s finally lunch time and my boss is out of the office.”

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com for information on updates, teasers, and more. In case you haven't read my story #FreeWhalesFromButts, go take a look at that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11650233), if the title and the fake question below intrigued you. 
> 
> Your comments have kept this story alive because you feed my motivation. <3 Thanks to all that have supported this little brainchild of mine.

Viktor knows  _avoiding_  his husband is wrong, but it’s only been –  _what?_  – a week at most? And it’s not like he didn’t have actual reasons for leaving the house at very, very early hours.

Viktor’s barely been back at all, but Yakov already wants him to get on a low-intensity dance training schedule that will keep him in shape and ready should he be offered a role in an upcoming television musical. Viktor knows he’s promised his and Yuuri’s family to step up and become a corporate talking head, but he can’t do it just yet. He’s also not sure Yuuri would be happy if Viktor wasn’t skating or doing something beneath a spotlight, so he doesn’t feel guilty for putting in some extra-long work days to avoid talking to his husband about how close Viktor’s dick had been to jumping out of his slacks just a few nights ago. It’s easier to focus on doing jumps with his razor-sharp knife shoes. Besides, Yakov’s office has pretty good Internet and Viktor has been behind on his blogging. A lot of questions had been coming in from people desperate for love advice—and helping other people helps Viktor forget  _he’s_  beyond help when it comes to his own marriage.

**Daily-Relationship-Workout**

**anonymous** asked:

Asking for a friend, if a boy has a lot of Vineyard Vines in his closet, dump him, right? I can’t be alone in having heard ALL the things people say about boys in neon melon shorts! - #FreeWhalesFromButts

_Hi Whales,_

_Wow! This is one is hard. I definitely haven’t heard anything about neon melon whale shorts. Want to share? I’m sure many members of the community would be super interested. You can either submit **or** send me an email: [dailyrelationshipworkout@gmail.com](mailto:dailyrelationshipworkout@gmail.com). _

_Now, I’m going to suggest that – even if you don’t message me back – you make a list for yourself of what you think boys with neon melon shorts are like and then make a tabulation on things this boy does that meet the standard description. If he’s abusive, disrespectful, inconsiderate, non-communicative (even after you’ve tried to build bridges of communication,) and/or shows other potentially major red flags that might put your physical and/or emotional safety in jeopardy, dump him. But don’t just dump him because you don’t like his clothes if he’s otherwise been a good partner. Pros and cons list are always applicable, but, as I always say, there’s some cons that are just immediate grounds for separation._

_Good luck!_

**Daily-Relationship-Workout**

**anonymous** asked:

Did you hear that Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov will be doing an interview together soon? I know you’re a big fan!

_Yeah, it was announced this morning that they’ll be doing a couple of interviews soon. Hopefully there’ll be some photos to accompany the articles, too! It’s been a while since we’ve seen any Yuuri Nikiforov spreads._

**Daily-Relationship-Workout**

**MickC** asked:

My boyfriend is completely turned off by my new diet regiment. How do I get him to be supportive?

_Hey MickC, I told you there was some major sacrifice involved in the green smoothie challenge. Honestly, my significant other also hates that diet and doesn’t exactly share in my fitness and ultra health conscious lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong, he’s fit, just not into fitness – and that’s fine! Recognizing that our partners have different tastes to ours, different hobbies, and different preferences is what makes them so interesting and attractive in the first place, am I right? I mean, you wouldn’t want to date a clone of yourself, would you? – Don’t even think about it. The only answer to that one is no, unless there’s some kinky fantasy you haven’t shared with the squad. So, if right now you’re thinking, boy, I wish X was more like me, wouldn’t that make this relationship easier, you should stop. Relationships are always work. Enjoyable work. But they’re work, whether you both like the same foods or have completely different dietary requirements. See those differences as complementary and try to see them through the generous eyes with which you would usually see your partner and your relationship. Don’t let this (and the struggle of chugging down smoothies,) color that view!_

_Onto the rest of this one… Look, this one’s easy: If you want him to be supportive, be supportive back. Find a compromise and meet each other half-way. My compromise? I definitely brush my teeth and my tongue a lot more during that diet because my partner swears he gets the hint of after-taste when we kiss. I also time my snacks very carefully so I don’t get cranky. In general, we try to go to the gym together sometimes, but not all the time and it’s not an expectation that it’s all we do. I like the gym. My partner doesn’t. He likes the movies. We go to the movies a lot. Especially when I’m on my smoothies kick. He can drink his favorite soft drink while I’m chugging chlorophyll. Bottom line: Talk to each other. Determine what support looks like. Go on dates. Enjoy being together._

**Daily-Relationship-Workout**

Thanks for all the messages everyone! I’m currently behind on answering some, but I will catch up soon. As always, if you like what I do, help by sharing my content and/or leaving a little something in the Ko-Fi. All proceeds are divided equally and donated to the charities listed **here**.

Today, before I sign off, I want to remind you all that COMMUNICATION is the key to healthy relationships. For today’s DAILY RELATIONSHIP WORKOUT sit down with your partner with a pen and a piece of paper for each of you and write five questions each about things you wish you knew about the other. Then, jumble them up and pick them randomly. Use them as inspiration to have a good conversation and learn more about each other. ;)

Good luck!

.

By the time Viktor gets home, Yuuri is waiting.

He’s sitting at the head of their dining room table with Makkachin laying by his feet. Yuuri stares straight through him, studying him as he takes dangerously slow sips from his coffee mug like he’s debating whether to offer him some coffee in a cup or on his pants. The latter sounds horribly painful, but Viktor has been suffering through some miserable nights pretending he hasn’t graduated to a new level of creepy and isn’t lusting after his own husband—his _innocent_ , _sweet_ , _kind, polite_ husband, who has only agreed to contractually remain married to him for eight more years. And, sure, there’s a lot wrong with Viktor, but a disregard for respectful boundaries isn’t one of them. Complicating their relationship is also obviously not something Yuuri wants, not with how he hasn’t made that call sober during their two years as a married couple.

And Viktor, stupidly in love Viktor, isn’t about to make the first move, not when he promised at the altar to be _patient_ , to _take care of Yuuri_ —all of Yuuri, right down to the fragility that seems to pervade his gentle heart. Never mind that he knows his husband is strong, so strong he’s the type to take an arranged marriage and, despite the challenges, make something beautiful flourish in their penthouse apartment. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Viktor how Yuuri makes their apartment a home. He aims to take care of Viktor so well, how could Viktor ever betray that trust?  -- But damn if Yuuri doesn’t make it extra hard some days.

(Viktor’s about to discover this is one of them.)

“You’re home,” Yuuri says, measuring his words carefully. There’s something odd about the way he says it. “I had considered checking your room to make sure your clothes were still here. I almost thought you’d moved out.” – And the implication makes Viktor’s tongue swell. There’s just a little bite to Yuuri’s words; it’s not much, but definitely enough to make Viktor feel shame.

Viktor rubs at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Yakov just—”

“Are you hungry? I made meatloaf,” Yuuri asks, not even letting him give an excuse as he pushes his chair back to start walking towards the kitchen. Viktor feels his throat tighten this time. He slips a finger into the inside of his shirt collar, trying to pull it away from the thick knot forming in his throat at the sight of his husband’s long legs and thick thighs peeking under the tails of an over-sized white button-up. Viktor’s eyes drink in the sight of Yuuri, bare-footed with his sleeves rolled-up and taking tentative steps around the table ( _again_ , and this is what keeps killing Viktor, _in Viktor’s button-up_ ).

Viktor’s voice breaks as he asks, “Is it laundry day, lapochka?”

Yuuri fans his eyelashes up, lips shimmering in a way that would make Viktor think he was wearing gloss. He might be. Viktor’s never pegged Yuuri for the type, despite their mutual addiction to lip balm, but it’s a look he appreciates. It makes him _want_ , desperate and needy like he’s drunk all over again. His fingers twitch by his sides.   

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri shrugs, “there was a small accident in my closet.”

“What kind of accident?” Viktor asks quickly, already turning on his heels to go check.

“No,” Yuuri skirts around him, stepping up towards him. He’s so close, their chests might as well touch, and Viktor takes a panicky step back. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m wearing one of your shirts. It was either this or walk around the apartment naked! – Sit down, I’ll make you a plate, and please don’t tell me you’re not going to eat because of the green smoothies, Vitya. I spent a lot of time cooking for my husband today. I was worried maybe you were mad at me.”

 _Why would I ever be mad at you?_ he thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead, Viktor almost chokes on his own tongue, “I, uh, I have one-third more of smoothie to go. And then, my healthy snacks—”

“I wouldn’t worry about cheating a little,” Yuuri practically purrs, and Viktor tries to convince himself that it _must_ be his imagination. “I’m sure you’ll burn all the calories up, and then some,” he adds with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

Viktor looks over at his dog, who simply makes a miserable whining sound in commiseration before tailing out of the room. It seems Yuuri has put Makkachin’s big bed and toys in Yuuri’s room; Viktor tries not to question it too much. _Alone_ , Viktor thinks, wondering if he should back out of the apartment before he loses his mind.

And then Yuuri yells, like the mind-reader he is, “Don’t even think about it! You need to eat something, Viktor.”

Naturally, Viktor panics, but he decides to take a seat. He counts the minutes anxiously. _Maybe_ , his mind offers treacherously, _he wants you to literally fuck his honor away. Yeah, think about it – what kind of accident happens to an entire closet that requires sending everything to the laundry?_

There’s a knock at the door, just as Viktor hears Yuuri coming back out from the kitchen, saying, “Now, I made it with the butter and garlic mashed potato recipe you like so much. I kept to small portion sizes, so there’s no excuse. I want you to eat it all so I can treat you to some dessert.”

“Ah, Yuuri, stay in the kitchen for a second, someone’s knocking,” Viktor smiles, walking over to the door. On the other side, a bored looking blond teenager glares at him.

“Delivering laundry for Mr. Yuuri Nikiforov. The concierge put in an emergency order. Is this the right place?”

“Uh, yes, this is the right place,” Viktor says, the corner of his mouth twitching as he internally berates himself for ever assuming Yuuri would have been making an excuse to get him into bed. He curses silently as he pulls out his wallet to tip the young man, who half-smiles only marginally when he gets a fifty-dollar bill. His nametag reads Yuri. Viktor takes it as a sign. This is the universe letting him know Yuuri’s true intentions, which were to make his husband happy with a nice dinner because he’s a sweetheart and probably thought Viktor was upset with him—again, because, to both their chagrin there hadn’t been a lot of kissing lately.

“You’re not expecting change for this, right?” Yuri asks cautiously as he pockets the bill and quickly hauls the three large bags full of clothing into the living room, “Because it’ll be charged to your rent and incidentals account and I don’t carry cash on hand. You want me to haul this stuff into the room?”

“Goodness, no, what kind of barbarians live in this building?” Viktor scoffs, “that’s for you. Keep it. All of it. Thanks for hauling all that stuff up here so fast. I’m sure my husband will be really happy. We’ll take it from here.”

Yuri shrugs, “whatever. I used the elevator. I mean, have a good afternoon, Sir.”

Viktor closes the door behind him.

Yuuri comes out of the kitchen to stand by the wall. He holds Viktor’s plate with both hands, looking shy as he clears his throat and makes his way to the table. Viktor takes a few long strides to meet him halfway, taking the plate from his hands. His hands brush lovingly over Yuuri’s own. He dips down to press a soft kiss against Yuuri’s forehead.

“Why don’t you go get changed while I eat? I’m sure you’re dying to get into something a lot more comfortable than just my shirt,” Viktor reassures him, “I’ll go take those into your room.”

.

Yuuri wants to die the next morning. He legitimately wants to crawl under a rock and die. Instead of bringing them closer together, it seems his plans to actually have sex with his husband are backfiring and digging a trench of doubt and distance between them. Yuuri wouldn’t blame Viktor for trying to avoid him; it’s not like Yuuri hasn’t been acting more than a little out of sorts, not to say crazy (literally, because he keeps trying even as the situation doesn’t change, seems to have no possibility for change). 

His clothes pile in mountains all over his bedroom floor. He carefully considers calling one of their on-call assistants (probably Minami would offer to come immediately) to help him get everything back in hangers and drawers. Yuuri caves and immediately sends Minami a message. He groans his misery into Discord because now he’s stuck in a robe until he can pick out a decent pair of pants to match a striped shirt he stole from Viktor. Despite his initial failure, he keeps thinking back to Mila’s advice: _Wear his clothes._  

“You actually sent _all_ your clothes to get fucking washed?” Seung-Gil laughs. “Why would you do that?”

“Seunggie, be nice,” Isabella warns, her voice petering on the edge of deadly. “But, actually, Yuuri, why _did_ you send all your clothes to get washed?”

Yuuri groans, “To add some realism to the whole thing. I didn’t want him going into my closet after we had sex and seeing all my clothes in there. That would’ve been cheap. He would’ve felt like I manipulated him instead of it all being a happy accident…”

Mila’s voice is tentative as she chimes in, “But, that was the point, Yuuri. He was supposed to be able to go into your closet and see everything there and connect the dots. And then you were supposed to get it on.”

“What Mila is trying to say is that you took the cheap porn elements out of it and killed his boner,” Seung-Gil laughs some more. “Why didn’t you just sit on his lap and continue on as per usual?”

“Because he’s perfect and instead of thinking with his dick, he proceeded to help me get all the bags into my room and to find something comfortable to wear.”

“You could’ve started stripping in front of him?” Emil offers, his voice soft and shy. “I wrote that into a fic once. The sex scene was nice. But I admit I was feeling kind of lonely—”

“The mood was just gone by then. So, he ate food. I got dressed. And then we took Makkachin to the park, held hands the entire time, and went back to kissing on benches. It was nice. Just, you know, not what I was expecting.”

“Not the _D_ , anyway,” Seung-Gil confirms. “Maybe it’s time you just told him directly you want sex. With him. Be clear and specific because it seems your husband is clueless.”

“No! I can’t! You guys, remember, I have eight more years in this marriage by contract. I don’t want to make things awkward. What if he doesn’t want to have sex with me? What if he’s barely able to do all the other things he does with me? What if—”

“We could be here all day with you thinking like that,” Mila huffed. “Stop spiraling. He obviously loves you. Let me correct that, from all the stuff you tell us, he’s obviously head over heels for you! It just sounds like something is getting in the way of his performance. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s him. Maybe he has a small dick.”

“Nope. I’ve seen him naked. I just haven’t banged him.”

“Maybe it’s awkwardly shaped?” Mila tries again.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “it’s perfect, Mila. Stop it.”

Isabella hums, “I’m somewhere between siding with Seunggie and Mila. I think this is about him and you need to talk to him that you have needs, damn it, and he needs to step up. You have eight years together. You can’t both just stick to your hands and dildos. Something’s got to give, Yuuri. Eventually. Either that or you both need to have a conversation about having an open relationship so you can both get yours.”

“I’d rather stick to a dildo if it means he won’t be bringing anyone else home. I’d die.”

“He doesn’t have to bring them home,” Isabella reassures him. “Neither would you. Neither of you should.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Yuuri gripes. “I just want V—the husband. Maybe I should just give up and go back to what we had…”

Sara’s voice filters through then, “what did I miss? Yuuri got the hiccups again?”

“Hey Sara!” Mila chirps. “Yuuri failed again. But he got close.”

“Hi Sara. I think this is way too dark of a conversation for this early in the morning,” Emil sighs. “Yuuri, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should give up. I… I’m a little embarrassed to tell you this, but I have an idea that might work. It definitely worked when I met my boyfriend.”

“ _Oh_!” Mila gasps, “Is this how you two did it in his office before you got together?”

“I’ll, uh, mes—message you, Yuuri,” Emil stutters. “I have to go to work. Have a good day everyone!”

Yuuri drops on his bed, holding the phone close as he hears the conversation dissolve into Sara’s latest update into her interview with the Nikiforovs.

.

**NekoInTheClub**

Hey Yuuri, so a little while ago, I accidentally came across daily-relationship-workout.tumblr.com on my boyfriend’s laptop. I was able to pinpoint that he’s gone to them to ask them for advice on our relationship and I have to say it really has helped us to communicate better. I’ve also gone in there and asked a few questions and it’s been great! I’m not saying you should send in your entire life story, but maybe take a look? Also, if you’re still looking for one more trick: Tie pulling. Works every time. Or maybe works with my boyfriend, but he likes to submit so…

.

Yuuri feels like a cliché, walking around a department store while his assistant trails behind him like a puppy. Literally, because Minami makes more heart-eyes at Yuuri than Makkachin.

Minami comes running over with seven more ties all draped over his arm. Yuuri admires them patiently, feeling the texture of each one as he taps his phone against his chin. Emil hadn’t given him too much information on whether the type of tie mattered at all, so he was just going to go with something he’d want Viktor to wear. In case it worked, it’d make a nice memento. If it didn’t, well, at least it’d get some actual use.

“Purples and magentas tend to wash him out,” Yuuri hummed. “He looks very nice in all colors, but those make him look exceptionally pale. Yellows just make him look sick. Viktor’s a winter, even if he won’t admit it. Oh, I like this blue. Thanks, Minami.”

Minami squealed, running to go find more blue ties. Yuuri barely had an opportunity to pull the first tie from his arm. He feels the texture, imagining the way the silk would fall around Viktor’s neck and feel in Yuuri’s hand as he tugged hard, bringing his husband down to his knees. The image was exceptionally gratifying and he immediately walked over to the cashier, not even bothering to tell Minami he was sticking to the first blue tie. After all, if Minami found more ties, it wasn’t like Yuuri couldn’t afford to pamper Viktor a little.

.

Viktor wanted to think things were back to normal. He brings Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

“How was your day?” he asks, eyes soft as he studies the beautiful profile of his husband. Yuuri really is a beauty with his soft skin and long lashes and the barely-there pink blush constantly pressed against his cheeks. It reminds Viktor that there’s nothing about Yuuri he doesn’t love.

“Good,” Yuuri smiles, reaching forward to kiss Viktor’s lips. His free hand caresses Viktor’s cheek. “I bought you some new ties.”

Viktor arches an eyebrow, “wow, well, thanks, lapochka. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, I thought it’d be nice for you to wear something new for tomorrow’s interview with the New York Times. We want to have a nice photograph, don’t we?” Yuuri chuckles, withdrawing his hand to take his fork. “Besides, can’t I just want to see my husband in pretty clothes?”

“I’m always in pretty clothes.”

“Pretty clothes I chose for him,” Yuuri corrects teasingly. He reaches under the table, bringing out a gift bag. “We can open them together after dinner and choose one for tomorrow while I feed you dessert.”

“Wow,” Viktor grins, “now I’m really starting to feel suspicious. What’s all this for really?”

Yuuri shrugs, looking coy as he bites his bottom lip, “think of it as an apology for all my weird behavior recently.”

And Viktor decides with relief that they must, finally, be back to normal.

**TBC**

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love visitors. Come remind me to write the next chapter over at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com.

Look, Yuuri’s proud of all his stories, except for one—probably because it reeks of desperation.

His shame increases substantially when Mila bravely ventures outside of their comfortable little Love in the Streets fandom into the periphery of real person fic (RPF) for him (and claims, almost instantly, “I’m so glad I don’t know you personally, Yuuri, because I’m not sure I could look you in the eye after what I just read, especially because it feels extra dirty knowing you share the same first name as his husband!”)  It’s not like Yuuri is the first or the only person to ever write RPF about Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov. (Apparently, some other hundreds of writers have taken to typing some 1,567 stories about them and Yuuri admits he’s a little obsessed reading through them all, with comments, of course.) However, Yuuri is probably the only person worthy of having a relationship tag with his name on it that has contributed to his personal fictional defilement (with glee and extra blue balls to match his blanket and mug of tea). At least he’s married to his shipping partner, or else there’d be all types of different mixed emotions coursing through him.

Now, Yuuri isn’t saying it’s _normal_ , but, at first, it seemed harmless enough. Drunk on sexual frustration and Viktor’s new cologne, he’d barely scraped together some 2,000 words worth of blissful domesticity before he’d posted the story with the intensity of a tornado whirling Dorothy away to the land of Oz—and he probably should stop trying to make so many bad comparisons outside of fanfiction. All that to preface that he’d proceeded to post his masterpiece only to receive five comments, including one that seemed to be longer than the chapter itself ripping apart his characterization. Literally. As in someone decided to rip apart his characterization of _himself,_ Yuuri Nikiforov. Naturally desperate (because, how dare they tell him he would never tell Viktor to go wash his mouth after drowning on chlorophyll), Yuuri had reached rock bottom and proceeded to message out the link to his entire Discord family, including the newly minted members, because _everyone is family here_ (and only now does he understand why not everyone deserves to be considered family.)

“I mean, the characterization seemed fine to me?” Emil says, sounding like he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Yuuri drinks in the reassurance greedily, “Okay. Was it too fluffy? I mean, people like fluff, right? I thought people liked domestic fics. But here I am with barely five comments. I swear my fic is the most unloved out of the entire tag and I—I just don’t understand what I did wrong... I mean, I know I’m not the greatest writer, but I thought I was at least _okay_.”

“You’re more than okay. You’re an erotica master. Calm down. There’s no such thing as doing fanfiction wrong, bitch; if you think you’re doing it wrong, then _that’s_ what’s wrong,” Seung-Girl huffs, and Yuuri can imagine him rolling his eyes, even as he sits on the floor rubbing his dog’s belly. “Yuuri, look, you can’t be a big name in _every_ fandom. Big name status is, like, getting upgraded to first class on a commercial airline without the status points. Maybe happens once because you smiled just right at that one desk agent that was feeling just a little bloated that day and needed the pick me up and you said her frizz was regal or whatever nonsense you want to insert here.”

“Seunggie, what have I told you about using placeholders in everyday speech?” Isabella sighs.

“Maybe happens twice if someone dies and misses their flight—”

Emil gasps, horrified.

 Yuuri always flew first class with Viktor, but he knew better than to tell his friends that the analogy was completely lost on him.

“Point is, you just came into this community a little late. You have to earn your stripes, really step up your game to compete. This is when you start buttering up the artists, bring out the Photoshop, you’re going to need banners and lots of anonymous asks sent into some rec blogs. I’ll start mapping out the best blogs to hit. You start googling pictures for your banner.”

“Or,” Isabella interrupts, “Just let it go. Right, Seunggie?”

“No! Bitch, we’re gonna storm this fandom with Yuuri’s mastery of written blowjob scenes. Five comments is an insult. You think five comments feeds my dog? – Don’t answer that. The Ko-Fi doesn’t feed my dog, but still. This is for all of us. This is for Love in the Streets.”

“I’m already googling a close-up of Viktor Nikiforov’s ass,” Mila chimes in. “You want me to see if I find a picture of the puppy, Yuuri?”

“No,” Yuuri groans, “I’ll do it myself, after I pick which tie I really want the Husband to wear tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re going with the tie trick?” Emil responds, “Good for you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiles faintly, almost pained, “Well, we’ll see if it works.”

“Keep us posted!” Isabella beams. “Meanwhile, I promise I’ll be reblogging your newest masterpiece out to all 450 of my Tumblr followers. And maybe I’ll send it to my sister, too. She’s got more followers than I do.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll keep googling pictures of Yuuri Nikiforov’s butt,” Mila giggles.

“You don’t have to do that,” Yuuri says, voice almost breaking in embarrassment. This was not at all what he had expected.

“I thought you were looking at pictures of Viktor Nikiforov,” Isabella adds.

“I was,” Mila replies, “but then I saw Yuuri Nikiforov’s and it’s even better!”

“We are all going to hell for this,” Yuuri laments out loud before signing out of the voice chat.

(Later, much later, he’ll realize that was the conversation that made everything into such a convoluted mess—because that was how Yuuri graduated from writing about Viktor pounding his ass into googling for pictures of his _own_ ass.)

.

Viktor hates the ties. They’re both slightly on the thin side in a pale blue color that reminds him of washed-out ash, only uglier. The material is certainly of an excellent quality, which makes it all the more bittersweet for Viktor that he is holding two obviously very expensive ties that look almost identical to each other and he hates them both. It’s even more painful that Yuuri seems to love them, both because it’s disappointing to learn about a snag in his husband’s otherwise pristine, high-class taste and also because Viktor will now suffer the consequences.

But Yuuri is beaming at him so brightly, Viktor doesn’t have the heart to say anything other than, “I love them, lapochka!” – and if he is going to hell for lying, at least he can rest peacefully knowing he did it to save an angel’s innocently blissful smile. “I’m going to add them to my collection and wear them for a very, very special occasion, like a super private, only family dinner at my parents’ house to celebrate their anniversary.”

“Don’t be silly, Viktor! The whole idea is for us to wear them tomorrow. You pick one and I’ll take the other. Here, let me put this one on—”

“No!” Viktor gulps, hard. He smiles extra big, feeling just a little warm all over. He can’t be getting a fever. Realistically, he knows that’s impossible, and yet… it seems like the only explanation for the sweat beads pooling on his forehead. “Sorry. I mean. It’s been a long day. I want time to admire them both and decide in the morning which one will work best. Is that okay?”

Yuuri looks slightly disappointed, but Viktor’s darling husband has always been an understanding soul. It’s part of what makes Yuuri so perfectly endearing. He’s sweet and kind and respectful of Viktor’s every random whim.

“I got some files from the agency,” Viktor offers instead. “In my computer. For the baby. You want to see?”

Yuuri sits up, eyes sparkling, “A—already? But, it hasn’t been that long. I mean, we already have some potential leads?”

“Well, it’s more like an informational packet on our options now that we’ve decided for sure we’re adopting domestic. We need to sign up for our house study and then fill out our questionnaire, but I received some good feedback that we shouldn’t have too much trouble. We’re going into this with the best of the best. You want to look at it together?”    

Yuuri nods, face soft and earnest as he lets Viktor take the ties into his bedroom and return with his laptop. Viktor settles into the sofa, offering up his side for Yuuri to shimmy close. They spend the rest of the active evening reading through a variety of documents, sharing soft kisses in between breaks from the questionnaire—and Viktor thinks, _yes_ , _everything is finally back to normal._

.

Everything is better than back to normal. Viktor wakes up with Yuuri’s weight on his chest, still sleeping after a long night filling out their adoption questionnaire. They’re both still in their clothes from the night before, but it seems Viktor at least had the good sense to grab for a blanket to induce better cuddling—or maybe to hide embarrassing erections in the morning. He smiles softly, trying not to move and wake up his husband. Yuuri is perfect in the mornings. It’s like he glows (although Viktor also realizes the glimmer on his chin is probably more drool than perfect skin, but it doesn’t matter because he’s a man in love). He rests his head against the back of the sofa again and tries to ignore the knot rapidly forming in his neck. If his pants are a little tight, he tries to ignore it. It’s morning. They’re both adults. And married.

He quickly realizes that’s his half-sleep brain talking. Married or not, Viktor knows well that Yuuri isn’t interested in him that way and he has to respect him.

“Can we keep sleeping?” Yuuri asks after a while, and Viktor jumps. “I want to keep sleeping.”

Viktor chuckles, removing his arm from his side to reach for his phone. The battery is blinking red, barely at two percent.

“Oh! Yuuri, wake up. We’re late.”

“We’re late,” Yuuri yawns, cuddling close.

“Yes, _darling_ , we’re late,” Viktor says, only a little impatient. He knows Yuuri will read his tone as annoyed because he’s using an English pet name. It’s not how he wants his beautiful husband to wake up, but Viktor has no choice. They’re already ten minutes late for their interview and he’s not even sure why no one called to let them know. “Hurry, lapochka.”

“Jesus, we’re late!” Yuuri yells, rolling over Viktor and hitting the ground.

Viktor looks over at Yuuri, watching him peel himself off the ground, “Did you hit your face?”

“No,” Yuuri groans, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. He crawls on all fours towards the end of the rug before he collapses again. “Oh my gosh, we’re late. Viktor, quick, go get into your suit. I’ll go get into mine. I’ll take whichever tie you don’t wear. Hurry! Ah, Makkachin, sorry, girl, but you might need to wait for the dog walker…”

Makkachin whines and licks Yuuri’s face. Viktor knows she fully understands that there’s a potential morning of misery ahead, or a spot in the corner of the house hidden behind some ferns. She’s probably going to take the ferns. Makkachin swiftly moves from Yuuri to Viktor, trying to lay her head on his thigh.

“Sorry, Makka,” Viktor whines back, pouting as he pets her head. Her eyes are big and precious, and he loves his furry child. “Go on girl. Behind the fake bushes. I’ll clean up after you later. Meet you out here in five minutes, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” Yuuri yells over his shoulder. He drags the blanket with him, “Don’t shower!”

“But Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, indignant. He always takes a shower in the morning.  

“We don’t have time!” Yuuri reminds him, rolling his eyes. Viktor would be more offended if it wasn’t true. He usually takes about an hour in the bathroom.

Viktor huffed, entering his bedroom to meet face to face with the same ugly ties from the night before. He took one in each hand, weighing his options.

 _Well,_ he thought bitterly, _remember, you’re a man in love_.

.

Christophe is waiting for them as Viktor pulls up in their car. He looks peeved. As good friends as they are, Christophe is a consummate professional when it comes to his photography. The fact that Viktor would even consider being late to a photo session with Christophe Giacometti is an insult—one his friend, not the professional, will also make sure he never forgets.

Viktor rushes out from the driver’s side, throwing his keys at the valet in his rush to pull Yuuri out from the passenger’s seat. He rests his hand on Yuuri’s lower back, practically pulling him to meet Christophe. Yuuri looks a little lost, pink lips freshly balmed and open as he tries to give Christophe an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” Viktor breathes out, “we just. It was a long night.”

“I don’t want to know,” Christophe scoffs, wrinkling his nose. He studies Viktor and Yuuri before he focuses in on the ties. “What is that you’re wearing?”

“Excuse me? This is a Valentino.”

Christophe turns to Yuuri, “Did he put you up to the tie? You can speak freely. I will protect you from the fashion criminal.”

Yuuri flushes a bright pink, looking thoroughly embarrassed as he picks at his tie, “I—I thought they looked pretty.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor grinds his teeth, even as he tries to smile, “got us ties. For our interview. Because he wanted us to look nice.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Christophe says, ushering them into the elevator. “Right. Of course. They’re very, uh, avant-garde. A winning color. Looks like the sky cried.”

Yuuri doesn’t look convinced. Viktor feels crushing disappointment radiate off his husband. He almost wishes he could punch Christophe in the face. Instead, he elbows him as he leads Yuuri into the elevator. “Just shut up, Chris,” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

“You want to take it off?” Yuuri asks, stepping close to Viktor. His fingers play with the lapels of his button-up shirt. “I can loosen it up for you. You should’ve told me it was ugly.”

Viktor reaches for both of Yuuri’s hands, decisive as he kisses his knuckles.

“Nothing you’ve ever given me could ever be considered ugly, Yura. They’re beautiful. Like Chris said, they’re unique, like the sky cried. We’re wearing a piece of the sky.”

Yuuri tries to fight back an uncertain smile, but can’t. It makes Viktor feel good, seeing the way his lips quirk up.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

“Who’s lying?” Viktor kisses his forehead, dropping his hands. He wraps a lazy arm around Yuuri. “I love it. Just as much as I love you. Now, cheer up or else they’re going to think we had a big fight or something.”

Christophe watches them from the edge of the elevator.

“You’re both too cute, you know that,” he says, and Viktor can’t determine if he’s fully forgiven them or not. “But if you ever show up to one of my sessions late again, I’ll throw up on your expensive Italian shoes.”

.

Yuuri is nervous. He’s trying to come up with a million different ways in which he might be able to feign sick or something to get him out of talking. It’s not like Sara hasn’t seen Yuuri Nikiforov talk before, and she’s definitely heard Yuuri from Discord’s voice, but seeing as she hasn’t said anything to him about it in months, he’s hoping that he’s wrong. Maybe Sara has never heard Yuuri Nikiforov talk; it’s not like Yuuri talks much anyway. He likes to stick to written interviews, things he can put together and re-read to ensure he feels confident in his final answer. If not that, then just pictures and magazines, and certainly not with anyone that would’ve crossed past with his other persona.

Despite the whirling thoughts spinning in his head, Yuuri remains professional. He poses for Chris, letting him take as many pictures as he’d like. He puts on his prettiest, sultriest look, resting his hand on Viktor’s shoulder or leaning close to his ear from behind the sofa. When Viktor lays on a chaise, tie half undone for the pictures, Yuuri has no trouble laying over his husband with a smile. This all feels incredibly natural for the camera, much like it does at home when Viktor kisses Yuuri’s nose or cuddles with him to watch a movie. And so long as Yuuri is looking just at Viktor, nothing could make his smile go away. Nothing. Not even the fear of his friend meeting him as not-himself.

“That’s the last one!” Christophe crows, looking elated as he keeps flicking through the photos on the screen in front of him. “This on is my favorite. Just look at you two—sexy power couple.”

Yuuri laughs, trying to hide behind Viktor’s arm.

“I’m not the famous one,” he whispers.

Viktor looks down at him, arching an eyebrow, “You’re not? Because you seem to get more cover requests than I do. You’re just naturally captivating, solnyshko.”

“Wow, you two really are a perfect couple, aren’t you?”

Yuuri recognizes Sara’s voice instantly. He freezes next to Viktor.

“Sara Crispino,” she introduces herself. In person, Sara is beautiful, with her hair pulled up into a professional bun. Yuuri never imagined the possibility of seeing any of his friends in person, but now here he is, presented with one of them. It’s like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

“Viktor, nice to meet you,” Viktor says, shaking her hand. “And this is my husband, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiles wide, shaking her hand as well. He bites his bottom lip. With an apologetic look, he presses a hand against his neck and shrugs his shoulders. _My voice is gone_ , he mimes, and Viktor and Christophe both exchange puzzled looks above his head. Yuuri can feel it. _No voice,_ he mimes.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Viktor panics.

Yuuri opens his mouth, pretending like he’s trying hard to filter out any sound, but can’t. He pouts, looking distressed, and he almost feels guilty because he knows Viktor is going to want to rush him to a hospital.

“My voice is raspy today,” Yuuri finally pretends to manage, after a few more tries. “I won’t be able to talk much.”

“But you seemed fine earlier,” Christophe reminds him.

Yuuri chooses to ignore him, “Interview, yes? Before my voice goes completely?”

“Oh! Of course!” Sara nods frantically. “This way!”

“Oh, lapochka,” Viktor hugs him, “You should’ve said you were feeling ill. My poor Yuuri. Don’t worry. As soon as this is all over, I’ll make you some soup and tea and cuddle you back to health. My love will surely cure you.”

“How is the cuddling supposed to help?” Christophe asks, “You need to get him a doctor so he can get some antibiotics.”

Viktor glares, ushering his husband to the interview room, “He probably fell ill because his defenses were weak from all the guilt you made him feel about the ties. Shame on you, Chris.”

“Shame on me?!”

Yuuri feels terrible he’s letting Christophe take the brunt of Viktor’s overzealous mothering, but he can’t help but enjoy it, too. He sticks close to Viktor, taking in the smell of his cologne and feeling excited that he’s about to have a full afternoon of cuddling ahead. If he plays his cards right, he can feign enough of a fever to finally get them both hot. He grins to himself, playing with his tie.

.

**Re: Yuuri Nikiforov’s Lips**

**BrickBooty**

Lifetime Member

Can we just for a minute admire Yuuri Nikiforov’s perfectly cupid-bow lips? It’s like he exfoliates them every day! Just look at how smooth his lips are, you guys! Pictures ahead. A lot of pictures. I just started cropping and then couldn’t stop.

.

Viktor really can’t stop looking at Yuuri’s lips.

“So, how did you two meet? It seems to be a huge mystery. One day, you seemed single and the next you were married.”

Yuuri squeezes Viktor’s hand. They have practiced their answers to simple questions a lot, mostly because neither of them want the world to know they are the result of an arranged marriage. For all that theirs is a marriage of convenience, it mostly feels inconvenient. It makes Viktor wish he’d bothered to listen to his parents for once and taken Yuuri out on a few dates.

“I’m always surprised when people say that,” Yuuri blinks, smooth as his eyes narrow. “Look for me in the crowd at any of Viktor’s major competitions; I assure you, I was there with banners and all, cheering on my man.”

Viktor gulps down his uneasiness. It’s true. It’s been their only saving grace.

 Yuuri chuckles, “I’m a huge skating fan. My best friend Phichit Chulanont is a skater, too, so he invited me to one of the Grand Prix banquets and the rest is history.”

“You met at a Grand Prix banquet?” Sara nods encouragingly, waiting for Yuuri to continue.

“I asked him out after one dance,” Viktor grins. He can feel Yuuri’s stare on him. He clears his throat. “Most exciting banquet of my life. He started stripping.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps, voice raspy. He laughs anyway, leaning closer to Viktor. “I pole-danced, is what he means. I didn’t suddenly start stripping. And this was after we waltzed and tangoed. The pole-dancing came up because he challenged me to a dance-off.”

“So Viktor Nikiforov pole-danced during a Grand Prix banquet?” Sara squeals, writing hurriedly.

Yuuri nods, elbowing Viktor.

Viktor knows Yakov will kill him when he next sees him, but it’s fun pretending they can re-write history. In some other world, perhaps Viktor did meet Yuuri dancing. It’s more exciting than telling Sara about how Viktor met Yuuri when they were children; how he ignored him because he thought being followed by a little kid everywhere was weird. But he doesn’t want the world to know he was a jerk, that Yuuri got a bad deal, stuck with the man that was so willing to flirt with him when he thought Yuuri was someone else. 

“And I lost. I bet my gold medal. He let me off easy for a date,” Viktor grins. “Now, if you asked me how I fell in love with Yuuri, that’s a different story.”

Sara leans forward, eager to hear more.

“Okay, then, Viktor, when did you fall in love with Yuuri? How did you know?”

“At the Olympics,” he says, turning to study Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri falters. Viktor can see it in millisecond as he maps the way his jaw goes slack. He never can seem to stop looking at Yuuri’s lips. There’s just something about the way they part and tighten that give Viktor hints of how Yuuri is feeling. Right now, he’s unsure. He’s scared. This is a new story. They haven’t practiced this one. Everyone always wants to know how they met; no one ever asks about how they fell in love, how they knew they should get married. But that’s exactly what Sara wants. Viktor knows. If he has only one moment to confess his love to Yuuri, then this is it.

“At the Olympics?” Sara asks, perplexed. “I don’t think there were any pictures of you celebrating with anyone at the Olympics.”

“I stayed in the hotel,” Yuuri lies. “I was under the weather.”

“I had this gold medal around my neck and a sea of people all around and the one person in the world I wanted most was nowhere to be seen and it was the worst! – I had to put on a suit and everything, give a fast interview with Yakov because I was also going to announce that I would retire after just one more season.”

“He got back to the hotel,” Yuuri whispers. “Put the medal around my neck.”

“Said,” Viktor worries at his bottom lip, feeling hot all over, “will you keep it for me?”

“For how long,” Yuuri finishes for him, their eyes locking for a second. “And he said, keep it for me forever. It wasn’t a conventional proposal. But it got him laid.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor laughs, surprised.

“It did,” Yuuri challenges, wrapping a hand around Viktor’s tie. Viktor watches silently. “I took his tie, just like this and pulled him right into me. I was a snotty mess, but not something you focus on with a gold medal around your neck and an Olympian on your bed.”

Viktor flinches, wholly unprepared as Yuuri yanks him forward by the tie.

“It went something like that,” Yuuri shrugs, looking smug as he drops Viktor’s tie.

“Wow,” Sara says, “And the world never knew that this amazing romance was happening. It’s unbelievable! Now, I’d like to get into some serious questions. Part of the reason we’re doing this interview is to better understand the many ways in which love blossoms between people—”

Viktor only has eyes for Yuuri. Everything around him is a blur. He rubs at his neck, a dusting of pink over his heated nose and cheeks as he watches Yuuri glow. His husband gives him an inconspicuous wink.

“—do you have anything you’d like to say on that? Viktor, maybe we can start with you?”

Viktor blinks. He’s completely lost.

But then there’s Yuuri, squeezing his hand as he takes the question.

 _I’m a man in love_ , Viktor thinks. _Fuck. I’m in love. I’m really fucking deep._

It’s not an entirely new realization. Viktor has known he loved Yuuri for a while now. Yet, now as he sits next to him, talking about love, pretending that they have any idea as to how normal relationships work, he feels like he can’t breathe, like something changed in the split second between the sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes and the squeeze of the tie around his neck. Viktor always assumed falling in love was supposed to make him feel light; instead, he feels heavy. All he feels is Yuuri’s hand anchoring him to the now.

“Viktor?” Sara asks again.

Viktor opens his mouth, looking conflicted. He has no idea about the question, much less what Yuuri just said. He should probably be honest or skirt around this with some flirty charm. Instead, he licks his lips and says, “I don’t know, Sara. All I know is I’m in love. That’s all I know.”

Next to him, Yuuri’s jaw goes slack.

**TBC**


	6. INTERMISSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the intermission! I bet a lot of you were curious as to why I'd be able to give you another chapter so fast. And it's not JUST because they're always fast to write... ;) Now, beware, there's Yuuri tears in this chapter, but that's why it's the intermission. Really, we needed to get to this point so that we can get to the next part of our story... the part where Yuuri starts interacting with his husband. Online.
> 
> Yes, the song lyrics are from Hallelujah by Panic at the Disco. 
> 
> You can yell at me over at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com.

**(1)** ** My life started the day I got caught** **.**  

“Now, I’d like to get into some serious questions. Part of the reason we’re doing this interview is to better understand the many ways in which love blossoms between people, but we are also hoping to dissect all the cycles of love and relationships from beginning to end. My main goal is to ensure that no one that reads this series is left with the impression that love is only of value when it lasts, that relationships are only good when they persist, but that we are always better off for having experienced love, even if at the end we have still been left alone.”

“That’s interesting,” Yuuri hums, “Right Viktor? – Viktor?”

Viktor still looks dazed, lost somewhere in the spaces between Sara’s words. Sara inspects them both, feeling a little uncertain as to whether she should continue. After a few seconds, she decides to start on her question.

“So, knowing what you do now, having the love you have now, perhaps having lost love before, what would you say to those wondering if it’s worth it to try again – to love even if you know love may end? Do you have anything to say on that? Viktor, maybe we can start with you?”

Viktor’s eyes are still staring into the distance.

Yuuri picks up seamlessly, “I guess, I guess I’d remind them that lot of things end. Youth. Money. Safety. Danger. Risk. Life. Everything has an expiration date. We’re only here for such a little while that we can’t live in fear of losing and letting that keep us from experiencing live and love. I make no secret of the fact that I struggle with anxiety. Viktor has been very honest about his own struggles with depression, too. So, for us, it hasn’t been easy. I think, for me, I’m always stuck somewhere in my head. Everything, for me, comes with a million questions about _me_ , you, everything, everyone, anything at all. I try to map everything out and often overwhelm myself along the way. But loving Viktor was the one thing that felt… felt simple, for me. As in, it was straightforward. I didn’t question if I loved him. I just did. If this ends, I’ll be happy to have experienced that—to know what it’s like to experience something that feels so right, so easy, like coming into my nature. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s different loving someone from cultivating a relationship! The latter isn’t easy! But, sometimes, I think that our nature is love. We were brought into the world to love. Why would anyone deprive themselves of that experience?”  

Sara clears her throat, asking, “Viktor?”

He finally focuses his gaze on her. She has to admit Viktor Nikiforov has a cold stare, probably accentuated by the shade of blue of his eyes. It makes the warmth with which he looks at his husband all the more indicative of his love. He looks a little wild in that moment. Sara would venture to describe him as frazzled, but it’s hard to imagine that an Olympian would be anything other than composed, _ever_. Next to his husband, Yuuri Nikiforov looks like the perfect image of calm grace, even without a voice. He sits pretty, rubbing his husband’s hand encouragingly.

“I don’t know, Sara. All I know is I’m in love. That’s all I know.”

Yuuri looks just as confused as Sara feels by that response.

She looks down at her notes, voice quivering as she finally recovers enough to say, “Uh, can you expand on that for us a little?”

Viktor shakes his head, licking his lips. He looks parched. Sara almost wants to run for a bottle of water. _Don’t lose them now,_ she thinks to herself.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri smiles softly, reaching to touch his husband’s forehead. Sara watches the sweet way in which he runs his palm down Viktor’s cheek. “Do you mind if we take a break? Just five minutes, maybe? I think we’re both under the weather. Comes with the territory of marriage. One person gets sick, the other person follows.”

“Oh, sure! We don’t have much left, but I guess it’s getting close to lunch time,” she nods, “There’s a break room right over there!”

She watches them walk away, holding hands. The moment the door closes behind them, she deflates, sighing hard. Christophe Giacometti drops next to her a minute after, offering her a glass of wine. It’s not even noon.

“Thanks,” she says and takes the glass anyway. “Are they always that intense?”

Chris clinks glasses with her, “Yes, don’t try to make sense of it. Just give them an hour or so. Two years in and they’re still in the honeymoon stage.”

Sara flushes pink, eyes wide, “Oh! You don’t mean…”

Chris grins, nodding, “They’re probably going to fuck in there.”

 **(2)** **All you sinners stand up** **.**

**I Eat Pasta**

OMG!!! Interview is going AMAZING! I think Yuuri and Viktor Nikiforov just took a break to go fuck in my break room. I’m sooooo glad I went with an actual sofa instead of the loveseat. I mean, not that I was expecting them to go at it during a break, but after working on this series, I feel like I’ve seen ALL types of reactions to talking about love. This is still the most EXTRA one, though. Not to mention they were wearing super cute matching blue ties!

Where are you guys?

Can I just say that Yuuri Nikiforov is the most gracious person I’ve ever met? Sooo graceful. He’s like a fucking gazelle.

@Yuuri I’m going to start editing out any time you refer to him as an awkward baby giraffe. That’s Viktor Nikiforov for sure. Awkward dude. Hot. But weird.

Guysssss, it’s been 20 minutes and they’re still in there…

**NekoInTheClub**

Wait, why do you think they’re having sex in there? I really doubt they’re having sex in the middle of an interview, Sara.  

**I Eat Pasta**

Christophe Giacometti thought so. I’m going with the guy that knows them. ;)

**Milaaa!**

What kind of questions were you asking?? Are their butts as cute in real life as they are in pics?

**It’s Seunggie Bitch**

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GO BARGE IN THAT ROOM AND PRETEND YOU INNOCENTLY THOUGHT THEY WERE JUST HANGING OUT! @Yuuri where are you? You’re missing all the fun!

**I Eat Pasta**

On my second glass of wine with Chris C.! Selfie! Aren’t we cute?  

**Still Waiting for my Princess**

Following. When I wake up.

**It’s Seunggie Bitch**

Following? Georgi, what the fuck. This isn’t Facebook. Get it together. There’s no scheduling online friendships.

**Milaaa!**

Aww, you look so cute!! I like your hair up. It’s so office chic. Also, Christophe Giacometti’s hair looks a little washed out in that light…

@Yuuri Yuuuuuuuuuuri! T-T Come to me, my precious porn supplier. I’ll edit back all the mentions of awkward baby giraffes, don’t you worry.

**Izzy**

Fam, not that I don’t think two celebrities having sex in a break room is worthy of all this excitement, but I’m kind of having a mini panic attack and may need to talk it out.

I think I might have accidentally manifested a HUMAN!

**It’s Seunggie Bitch**

OMG no bitch take it back I’m not ready to be an uncle

**Milaaa!**

Or use punctuation…

**It’s Seunggie Bitch**

Fine. Just because I want to be an example to the child.

You’re lying to me. I’m going to cry. Are we seriously having a Discord baby so soon? Someone start the voice chat in 5 minutes! I need to pee first. No interruptions for this one. @Yuuri, wake up already! Should be noon where you’re at! Code RED!

**(3) And being blue is better than being over it. **

If they did actually have sex inside the break room Sara so carefully designed (like Chris implied, because Sara is a professional and would _never_ ), Viktor Nikiforov didn’t like it (which, _wow, that sucks!_ ) because he slams the door on his way out, approximately 30 minutes later. Sara jumps, scrambling to hand her second glass of wine to Chris. She chases after Viktor, phone in hand, “Are you looking for the bathroom, Viktor? It’s in the other direction. Are you, are you leaving?”

Viktor simply ignores her, looking flustered as he tries to determine the nearest exit.

“But didn’t you drive your husband here…?” she whispers, but lets him go. Her eyes focus on the door instead. She worries at her bottom lip. Sara exchanges looks with Chris, who watches her from the sofa.

“Viktor?” he yells after his friend. “Vikt—sacré bleu, what’s wrong with him today? I’ll go see if I can catch him; hopefully an emergency didn’t just come up. I know his coach was having some health problems. Can you go check on Yuuri?”

She nods, wondering how often these types of things happen that Chris seems so confident in his ability to bring Viktor back, or at least figure out what’s going, because Sara is lost. Sara walks over to the door, knocking before entering without waiting for a response. She finds Yuuri Nikiforov dabbing at his eyes with a napkin.

She worries at her bottom lip, unsure whether she should say something.

“Uh, sorry,” she says, wondering if she should backtrack.

Yuuri’s head snaps up. He locks eyes with her for a split second before he turns to face a white wall, “Sorry! Uh, my, uh, contacts…”

She relaxes instantly, but then studies him closely.

“Wait, didn’t you get Lasik last year?”

Yuuri seems conflicted for a split second before fat tears droplets start falling down his cheeks again. Sara panics and closes the door behind her. _How could you be so stupid?_ she scoffs at herself, _He was obviously trying to save you both from the embarrassment of dealing with him crying. Well, too late now! Get it together, Sara! Someone needs you!_

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she smiles sadly, trying to approach Yuuri slowly. “You want to talk about it? – Is your husband okay? Chris was saying his coach has been ill recently so—”

“Yakov’s sick?” Yuuri gasps, voice breaking even more as he cries even harder. “Oh my god. And I didn’t even know. I’ve been so stupidly selfish.’

 _Fuck, Sara, just stop talking!_ She thinks to herself, growing worried that she’s walked into a divorce or something worse. It wouldn’t be the first seemingly perfect couple to crumble in front of her eyes. It’s made her question whether her project is cursed. One of the couples she’d interview had been fine until interview day, when they confessed they were in the middle of divorce proceedings. She’d had to salvage that interview by expanding on the premise of her series. Another couple had come to her separated, but looking to work things out. If Yuuri Nikiforov’s face was any indication of his relationship status, then things weren’t going all that well. He looked frustrated and upset, cheeks flushed red like his nose and eyes.

It was such a strange experience.

Viktor Nikiforov looked like a man so in love that he would give up all his gold medals before ever leaving his husband’s smile, much less his tears.

“Okay, so that’s not why he left, then. At least your voice is back so you can talk,” she sighs, dragging a chair over to sit in front of him. His fingers graze close to his cellphone, tucked neatly by his thigh. When she sees it, she considers asking if he wants to call someone to take him home. “What happened?”

Yuuri sniffles, crossing his arms petulantly, “You really think I’m going to tell you during an interview?”

Sara blinks, “Oh, well, I mean, no, of course not. This is all off the record.”

“No such thing,” Yuuri shakes his head, trying to take in some deep breaths. His chest heaves shallowly as he runs his fingers through his thick hair. Sara thinks how amazing it is to see someone look so beautiful, even when they’re crying. Sara’s never been a pretty crier and, because of it, she tries to smile all the time.

“Sure there is,” Sara smiles, trying it then, “But if you’re not comfortable, I under—”

 **(4)** **And if you can't stop shaking, lean back, let it move right through you** **.**

**It’s Seunggie Bitch**

Are we ready? I’m going to start. @Milaaa @IEatPasta @NekoInTheClub @IzzyB @GeorgiPops @Yuuri are you ready?!!

**Izzy**

I’m here. Where are you all???

**Milaaa!**

I think we lost Georgi; it says he’s offline. @IEatPasta are you here or are you back in interview mode? @Yuuri @NekoInTheClub

**(5) Try again.**

They both look down at the screen of Yuuri’s phone as it flickers to live, showing the number of alerts coming in at the same time as Sara’s phone pings.

“Oh my god!” she presses both hands over her mouth.

Yuuri immediately knocks the phone to the floor, hoping he can cover it up. Sara knows what she saw, though. Her heart hammers in her chest as her vision tunnels.  _That didn't happen_ , she laughs internally.  _You're just imagining things!_ But there's something in the tremor of Yuuri's lips that makes her reach for her phone anyway. Her eyes flicker between Yuuri and her phone's screen as she tries to find open the app. The signal is shaky in the room, much like her hands, but she manages to make a call. Sara's not sure what she expected. After all, all indicators pointed to the truth, but she still held her breath. 

When Yuuri's phone rings, she gasps again. 

"Oh my god! This is  _not_ happening," she says, unable to bring herself to hang up. 

Yuuri eventually reaches down for his phone, gulping hard. Sara has always loved her friend dearly, but she'd never even considered the idea of meeting someone from the Internet in real life. She'd grown up with an overprotective Italian family, twin brother included. She'd always been warned about  _stranger danger_ , and Mickey had barely let her meet people in school, much less online. The whole thing makes her skin feel scratchy. 

"Hello?" Yuuri says into his phone and his voice echoes back from Sara's phone. 

"Jesus!" she yells, throwing the phone away. "Yuuri!"

Yuuri looks breakable in front of her. There's so much going through her mind. She's trying to piece together the Yuuri that's always existed for her behind pixels and the one now in front of her, real and hurting. Their phones stop pinging after a while. Whatever is happening with their friends, they've stopped trying to get a hold of them. It's probably a good thing because Sara's not sure she could keep this secret to herself right now. Later, sure. But, right now, her brain is overwhelmed with the assault on her senses. 

"Hi Sara," Yuuri says, sniffling. 

"Hi Yuuri."

It takes her a moment before she connects that this is  _her_ Yuuri. This is  _still_ her Yuuri, who can't get laid by his own husband and writes more sex scenes than the top five publishers of romance novels combined. 

"Oh Yuuri," she finally says, sounding broken. 

Yuuri immediately crumbles. 

"Oh, honey," she rushes over, enveloping him into a tight hug. "It's fine. It's totally okay. Honestly, we've been meaning to get together for ages, right? Now I understand why you're never available. It's kind of hard to make lunch plans with your crazy schedule! But, think of it this way, now we can go to all the brunch places and drink all the mimosas. And I'll even take you to a strip club. You deserve a lap dance."

Yuuri only cries harder. 

"What did he do, huh, Yuuri?" she asks, trying to brush his hair back. "What did he say?"

Yuuri hiccups, "He said he loved me. He's in love with me. Said he wants to be with me forever. Needed to go think things through about our relationship."

"That's good!" Sara beams, sitting down to try to brush some tears away from his cheeks. "That's amazing! Then why are you crying? It sounds like he just rushed out of here to go light up your entire apartment in candles and fill the bed with rose petals! Or at least think about it."

"Be--because he said he _can't_ have sex with me!"

"Like, physically he can't?" she asks, shocked.

Yuuri shakes his head.

"Like, he can't bring himself to have sex with you? Well, you know, honey, some people are asexual. If you love him, then you need to have a clear conversation on boundaries and determine whether _you_ \--"

"I said the same thing, but he said no, that it's not that either!"

Sara is lost. She tries to pat Yuuri's back.

"So, he just won't have sex with you?"

"Yeah! He said it'd make things too complicated because of our agreement," Yuuri confirms, sobbing louder. "He said we should talk later."

"Yuuri, this sounds like he recognizes he has an issue and wants to find a solution together. I don't understand why you're crying," she sighs. 

Yuuri pouts, "Because I panicked and told him that maybe, given his reservations, we should just end it now."

Sara feels almost instantly nauseous, "Oh my god, Yuuri! What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know. I was angry and frustrated and I said something I didn't mean and now I don't know what to do!"

**TBC**

 


	7. Chapter 6

Viktor stumbles on fanfiction by pure accident during his time as _GoldBlades_ in a Viktor Nikiforov forum. 

He first sees a sub-forum with the words ‘Fan Created Works’ and then discovers that he has to ask for permission from the moderators to get the password to unlock that portion of the discussion board (which is, apparently, only available to adults). (Viktor should’ve known then what he was getting into, but he’d been curious, and alone, with Yuuri visiting Barbados with Phichit during a long weekend.) Password: _SoHotItMeltsMe_ – that’s what he ends up typing with considerable reluctance and very bright red cheeks, only to find that there is a subsection of his fans that have carefully earned a reputation for being in it less for the skating and more for his _skater butt_ , which, honestly, Viktor is _sort of_ , okay, _very_ okay with, because his ass is glorious and he’s worked for years to get it to prime status.

The first thread he sees (and clicks) is called **[Viktuuri/Rated M] We’re Going Skating**. Viktor doesn’t know anything about ratings or what, exactly, _viktuuri_ means, but he assumes it has to be benign and sweet considering the title sounds cute.

(It’s not cute.)

He proceeds to binge read 3,000 words of a very descriptive sex scene in an ice rink involving “Viktor Nikiforov, best skater in the world” (doing some impossible moves on the ice without falling and probably hurting both of them,) and “Yuuri Katsuki, sweet and unassuming boyfriend hoping to experiment” (with blind abandon and zero cares about safety.) Viktor feels guilty the entire time, but doesn’t stop reading, only pausing when Makkachin would drop a toy ball by his hand. By then, Yuuri is definitely more than just his boyfriend, but as he reads the quick two-line summary, he realizes this is a ‘get-together fic,’ a popular trope for his fanbase. He doesn’t know that either, at first, and only recognizes the trend once he’s finished with the forum and started to explore other pockets of the Internet. But the story sparks a twisted curiosity in Viktor that snatches onto his imagination and doesn’t let go.

Viktor feels strangely identified. Although his fans are writing more to objectify him than Yuuri, Viktor has had no outlet to express all the love and devotion he feels for every part of his husband, right down to the soft dips of his smile and the curve of his thighs. In this pocket of the forum, no one cares if he litters stories with paragraph-long comments about the beauty of a particular description, sprinkling additional thoughts on Yuuri Nikiforov. No one seems to think it’s weird.

  _So,_ he thinks, _maybe it’s not weird._

Eventually, he begins to believe it. After all, it’s not like he’s reading only stories with sex. In fact, he strongly prefers the ones where sex is a background thought, tucked neatly between love so pure it makes him cry and a lot of babies – human and dog, alike. The stories help things make sense for Viktor. It’s not that he doesn’t want sex with Yuuri. He just doesn’t want it as much as he wants permanence and security: the safety felt by his fictional counterparts in every domestic glimpse of alternate lives so like and unlike their own. Viktor realizes through the best wishes of his fans that he wants something just as beautiful and soft. He wants access to every part of Yuuri, unadulterated and uncovered, with the same transparency and ease as a reader going through another one of _mila-lu_ or _fluorescentforest_ ’s stories. Only, of course, he wants _them_ , not these visions of the two of them that feel flat and unrealistic in their characterization.  

And then, he finds _yuurionlove_ , with only one story (Kisses Taste Like Spinach) in the Viktor Nikiforov/Yuuri Nikiforov tag and a million more for some other television show Viktor has only heard about a handful of times.  

.

** Distance **

nanaforov

** Summary: **

Stuck in an emotional rut, Yuuri Katsuki meets Viktor Nikiforov at a mutual friend’s party and proceeds to fall in love with all the life inside of Viktor. But can they make a long-distance relationship work, especially when Viktor feels so uncertain about splitting his attention between Yuuri and the ice? A story exploring _how_ Yuuri and Viktor might have met and fallen in love. Updates every Thursday.

.

“Viktor!”

Viktor feels Chris tug on his blazer and almost falls back. He’s been standing in front of his car for a full minute, keys burning like a brand in his hand. It’s not like he had any intention of leaving Yuuri stranded, but Viktor needs to go home, or somewhere, anywhere. He needs to call his family and his lawyer to explain that his husband has just effectively asked for a divorce. After all, it’s just a matter of time before the Katsukis’ legal team finds some loophole to get them unmarried. The knowledge alone acts as confirmation of Viktor’s greed and his inability to have what he’s wanted for so long—just Yuuri, with no boundaries and, certainly, no end. Now, it’s official. Viktor was right. Yuuri never intended to stay. He’s almost sure that if he studies the whole thing more closely, he’ll find it’s his fault, too.

“Where are you going?” Chris asks, breathless.

Viktor looks at his friend, taking his hand. He drops the car keys on his palm.

“Can you give those to Yuuri?”

“Give these to—what? Viktor, what’s wrong with you?” Chris scoffs. The keys jingle in his hand. “Are you seriously trying to leave Yuuri right now? Viktor, that man loves you more than live itself and here you are trying to—”

“I don’t want to leave,” Viktor says, feeling small and vulnerable, like something out of _hashi-cat_ ’s _Say Red_ series.

“Then why _are_ you leaving?” Chris crosses his arms.

“Because Yuuri is trying to leave me!” Viktor shouts, and the world seems to stop. He can read every emotion passing over Chris’ face. A few strangers are walking around them in uncaring silence. _This is New York_ , he remembers. No one cares about his problems.

Chris gulps, hard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He just asked me for a divorce,” Viktor rubs at his face, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“How do you intend to get home?” Chris asks him, holding tight to the keys now. “You’re in no condition to be alone right now.”

Viktor shrugs. He hadn’t really thought about it after getting stuck on how _not_ to leave Yuuri without the car—a _how_ that didn’t involve marching back and giving him the keys. Now, Chris looks like an oasis in a desert of confusion. If Chris can take care of Yuuri, just for now, Viktor will be able to take a few minutes for himself. He’ll need to school his emotions into some semblance of normalcy (despite the way his heart nags angrily at him, pulsating with the beat of betrayal, like a whisper that screams in silence that he was _wrong_ , that he should’ve kept his love to himself), if anything to provide Yuuri with the comfort of knowing that he is deserving of asking for what he wants, even if right now that’s _not_ Viktor.

“I’ll call a taxi or an Uber. I’ll figure it out,” Viktor sighs, already bringing up one of the many apps on his phone. Chris looks over his shoulder. “Chris, honestly, the apartment is just a few blocks away. I’ll be fine, even if I walk. Please, all I need you to do is give him the keys.”

“I’ll drive you,” Chris offers. “Don’t protest. I’ll give Yuuri the keys and then I’ll drive you, and if he looks just as much of a mess as you, I’ll call Phichit to come drive him, too. You shouldn’t be alone right now; you shouldn’t go home, either. Neither of you should. Listen, we’ll go to my apartment and have some drinks and talk. Maybe you two just need to talk things out. A small fight can feel huge when you’ve been living in a state of perpetual honeymoon, but you will both be okay.”

Viktor rests a hand on Chris’ shoulder, giving him a small smile, “Chris, thank you. But I want to be alone right now, just for a couple of hours at least.”

“Viktor,” Chris frowns, unconvinced.

“I’ll call you,” he says, already starting to walk away. “Promise!”

. 

Sara has a car, so she offers to drive them back to her place so they can eat and chat more comfortably. (“We need to strategize,” she says, looping their arms together as she leads him down another exit to avoid running into anyone else.) Yuuri has never been more grateful to run into one of his friends offline.

In the safety of Sara’s car, they take a minute to call their friends, making up some story about deciding to meet up for lunch after Sara’s interview. (“Can you believe it?” he sobs into the phone, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks as he hiccups, “We finally made it work!”) When Mila asks one too many questions, he pretends he’s crying because of the good news, as opposed to the fact that he might have accidentally offered to divorce his husband. This is not his moment, or he won’t make it his moment. He doesn’t deserve it, not with Viktor probably running through a million scenarios in his head. Yuuri knows he should go home, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead, he tries to gush with Sara about how Isabella is going to be a great mother. It’s something they’ve all always known, but the news makes them all a little more human than before. Sitting by Sara, sharing a bottle of wine between them also makes him feel more human than he has in a long time.

She takes a long chug from the bottle before handing it back, “Have you texted him yet?”

“No,” Yuuri groans, looking at his phone screen again. He’s been drafting a message for the last half hour. _Something simple_ , he’d promised himself, only to be overcome with anxious panic the moment his thumbs would touch the screen. There was nothing he felt comfortable in saying through a text message. Viktor deserved Yuuri’s voice at the minimum, but he was too afraid of Viktor not picking up. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t. I need to talk to him.”

“Damn right you do!” Sara reminds him, not even waiting for him to drink before she takes the bottle back. It’s empty. “I’m going to open another one. You want more cheese?”

“No, but I’ll take more wine,” Yuuri says. He sits up, pressing his back flush against the leg of the sofa. “I worry he won’t forgive me, Sara. He was trying to bare his heart to me and I acted like such an ass.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Sara groans, trying to pop open the next bottle. When she succeeds and the cork goes flying behind her, she grins and raises the bottle. Sara’s apartment is small, but it’s filled with stuff. She steps over a few discarded heels by her dining room table and returns, triumphant, with a new, fresh bottle of Merlot. “But you’re going to need to be honest with yourself, Yuuri, and with your husband. It sounds like he has some very particular interest when it comes to you. So, you have to be honest with yourself: Are you _okay_ with what you have now, no sex?”

Yuuri pouts.

“I don’t like the limitation, but if I have to live with it to live with Viktor then maybe. I’d have to think about it more.”

 Sara nods, “It’s not ideal. Honestly, I realize you love him a lot, but it sounds like you’re poorly matched in something that means a lot to you.”

“Sex doesn’t mean _that_ much to me,” Yuuri flushes bright red. His ears pink. “Viktor means much more.”

“Not sex,” Sara grabs his hand, “feeling _desired_ , Yuuri. Feeling like your husband wants you. It sounds like that’s important to you, enough that at the first sign of rejection you reacted completely irrationally because you were hurt. If this was just about sex, you probably would’ve left him a month into the marriage, but it sounds like this is the first time he’s unequivocally refused you and _that_ hurt you, enough that you wanted to shove him back with enough force to _hurt_ him back.”

Yuuri feels his skin itch at the implication.

“I’m a horrible person,” he sniffles. “I hurt my husband, my beautiful, Vitya.”

“No, you’re not,” Sara chuckles, ruffling his hair. “You’re stupidly in love, which is something else. Text him. Let him know you’re okay. Check if he’s okay.”

“What if he doesn’t reply?” Yuuri whines.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t message him,” Sara shrugs.

.

 

.

 

Here’s the thing. Yuuri knows Viktor is being absolutely rational in his distance.

(It still hurts, though. Even more so because his face is fashioned into a look so neutral that it makes Yuuri feel silly about how much he cares.)

The ride in the car is long and quiet. For a moment, Yuuri considers reaching for Viktor’s hand at a red light before he reminds himself that he has no right to be initiating any type of intimacy right now, even if it’s benign or reassuring in his mind. This is even more important, considering Yuuri is more than a little buzzed.

(That, and because everything was even more awkward now that Viktor had found Yuuri standing in front of Sara’s apartment—not knowing it was her apartment, of course.

 “Your friend lives here?” Viktor had asked, and Yuuri had nodded, trying to huddle closer to his coat. “I didn’t know you had friends on this side of town.” –And, maybe it’s because Yuuri is already vulnerable, but he recognizes an underlying, tense implication that makes him itch. Does Viktor think Yuuri would even consider cheating on him?

“Probably a lot of things you don’t know about me. Probably a lot of things I don’t know about you,” Yuuri had mumbled back some five minutes ago. Now, they were just quiet.)

When Viktor parks the car in the basement parking lot of their building, Yuuri reaches for Viktor’s wrist, holding it in place. There’s a short moment when Viktor locks eyes with Yuuri. He looks confused and tentative, like he’s unsure what to expect next from Yuuri. Yuuri can’t blame him. The day has been long and unpredictable, for both of them. And, Yuuri realizes, more than convincing Viktor to take him back, Yuuri is going to need to convince Viktor to trust him again.

“I love you, Vitya,” he says, looking at Viktor with all the open adoration he can muster. Even to his own ears, he sounds awkward and sleepy as he says, “I love you a lot. That’s probably what I should’ve said earlier today.”

“You’re drunk,” Viktor sighs, but still brushes a hand over Yuuri’s hair. He reaches across from Yuuri to open the passenger door. “Come on, let’s get you into bed. We can talk once you’ve sobered up a little more and know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” Yuuri struggles to say, almost sliding out of the car. “I know _exactly_ what I mean. Viktor, I love you. I was being very stupid. Very, very stupid.”

“You were being very, very honest,” Viktor rolls his eyes. It’s one of the few times he’s ever done that to Yuuri. Yuuri feels just a little hurt, being so vulnerable then. He scrunches up his face to cry. “Come on, Yuuri, let’s get you upstairs.”

Yuuri sniffles, but leans against Viktor. The two of them walk towards the elevator.

“I’m not divorcing you,” Yuuri tells him.

“That’s a relief,” Viktor replies, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady. “Let’s wait and see how you feel about that in the morning?”

“Lapochka,” Yuuri pouts.

“What?” Viktor blinks.

“You’re missing the lapochka at the end of that sentence. _Let’s wait and see how you feel, lapochka._ Like that.”

Viktor chuckles, leaning against the wall as they elevator swooshes to their penthouse apartment.

“You’re drunk, _lapochka_ ,” Viktor says, sassy and bitter. But he smiles, so Yuuri accepts it as a win.

.

Babies take time, even when they’re not being biologically made. That’s always been Viktor’s understanding. Naturally, then, he’s not expecting to wake up to a call from their agency. It’s not supposed to happen so quickly. It’s definitely not supposed to happen at all now, given his pending “situation” with Yuuri. It’d kept him up most of the night.

He reaches for his phone blindly and blearily reads the words on the screen. Viktor only takes the call when he sees it’s from Lilia. Lilia has been a longtime family friend and her agency is one of the best when it comes to adoptions. Even when Viktor and Yuuri had decided to adopt domestically, there’d been concerns. After all, Yuuri might have been a U.S. citizen, but Viktor was still a permanent resident. Lilia promised experience and discreteness. Between the long-time relationship and reputation of her agency, it felt like a logical choice, but even Viktor knew Lilia wouldn’t personally oversee their case. A call from her felt ominous at best.

 “Hello?” he says, groggy.

“Viktor,” Lilia responds, sounding just on the edge of annoyed, maybe even a little judgmental. He knows he sounds terrible, almost hung-over, which he’s not. “I hope this is not a bad time?”

Viktor is about to complain when he catches sight of his bedside table clock and jumps up. It’s practically ten in the morning. He hasn’t overslept in a very long time. He clears his throat, trying to sound more respectful. “No, not at all. Is there something wrong with our application?”

“No,” she says, voice crisp. “I’m actually calling with relatively good news. Depending on how you and Yuuri feel about things.”

 _Yuuri,_ Viktor thinks, and wonders whether he should even be entertaining a call from Lilia now. But Yuuri’s words play over and over in his head: _I love you. No divorce._ Maybe there’s hope that everything was just a misunderstanding, even if no amount of forgiveness can overcome the very real concerns that have now become very apparent between them. Yuuri wants something Viktor might have once considered giving, but now questions. A baby, though, would be the type of responsibility that could extend beyond a marriage contract, something that might imply and give Viktor the security that he wasn’t just handing off his heart for the short-term.

It’s something they’ll have to discuss.

“Oh?”

“We just received a file that seems to be a good fit for you both, but we’d need to act fast. Babies are difficult to adopt because of their popularity. I know your application was clear that you’d consider older children, within a limit, of course. Two months old. Still a domestic adoption. Ethnic make-up is reported as Thai, German, and Russian. No Japanese, but things can’t exactly be perfect either.”

Viktor nibbles on his bottom lip, waiting for Lilia to finish.

“I thought we’d still need to go through background checks and a housing survey and—”

“You’re an Olympian and a Harvard graduate, both with considerable assets and clean records. For now, I’m having the agency vouch for you both, but you’d still need to pass the official background check, which, as I mentioned, shouldn’t be a problem, and a housing survey, but we can expedite that as much as possible. I take it you’re interested?”

“I’d have to talk to Yuuri,” Viktor says immediately.

“He’s not with you?” Lilia asks.

“H—he went out for a run,” Viktor lies, “I’ll call him.”

“Great. There is one more thing,” Lilia clears her throat. “It’s twins.”

Twins. Two babies. Plural. Viktor feels just a little dizzy.

“Twins are sometimes hard to place together. It’s a considerable investment to ask someone to care for a child, but two at once? It’s why I called you first. I’d hate to see these girls separated.”

“Two girls?” Viktor almost chokes.

“Zoya and Lyubov,” Lilia tells him and he can swear her smile has sound. “I knew when I heard their names they could be no one else’s girls.”

 Life and love, just like their wedding vows. Viktor’s heart clenches. In an instant, just from their names, he feels an overwhelming sense of warmth that settles in the middle of his chest and grows roots. They extend all the way through his arms and branch down his stomach and even wrap around his throat, like his body is preparing to welcome the possibility of two little girls burrowing into his very soul. Viktor knows, then, that, even if Yuuri didn’t want the girls, he’s made up his mind to parent them. His heart has already made a decision to love them. Two little girls.

“You’re right,” Viktor tells Lilia, comfortable in his decision. He smiles, resting his back against a mountain of pillows. “No one else’s girls. You know what? Start the process.”

“Viktor,” Lilia admonishes him, “talk to Yuuri first. Two babies is a big responsibility.”

“Lilia,” Viktor repeats, “start the process. No one else is getting them.”

.

**I Eat Pasta**

Hey, you doing okay? Did you talk to Viktor yet about…?

**Yuuri**

…

Not yet.

He hasn’t left his room since we came home yesterday.

I’ve been waiting by the kitchen for a couple of hours now. Poor Makka had to go potty behind the potted plants.

I’ve also been making a ton of pancakes, just so I have a fresh batch on standby. We’re out of whipped cream, though. I thought about going out to get some, but worried he’d wake up and leave before we could talk...

**I Eat Pasta**

Somehow I think he’ll live without the whipped cream. You have syrup, tho?

**Yuuri**

I wrote _I’m Sorry_ with the syrup, but then it got all dry, so I used chocolate syrup…

Sara, I’m about to cry, that’s how anxious I’m feeling.

**I Eat Pasta**

Are they chocolate chip pancakes? D:

**Yuuri**

No. Is that gross? Just chocolate syrup on maple syrup? Ugh, the bacon is getting soggy, too. I should probably put it back in the oven.

**I Eat Pasta**

Calm down and stay strong!!! It’s all gonna be OKAY, Yuuri! And if it’s not, I’ll write him as a shit husband in my article, don’t worry. I’LL AVENGE YOU!

**I Eat Pasta**

He awake yet? It’s been a good half hour…

**Yuuri**

Sigh. No.

Viktor never sleeps in. I’m starting to get worried.

**I Eat Pasta**

Maybe go knock on his door…? Or just go in…? I mean, he can’t get more mad at you than he is now, right?

.

Yuuri is just about to knock when the door swings open. He takes a step back just in time, holding tight to the tray of food. The pancakes read in runny, thick, almost unreadable letters: I’m Sorry. He’s written over the same set of pancakes twice as the greedy pancake had started to drink in the syrup and flatten the words. Yuuri had been up since early, making all types of things, which now littered the tray – eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage links, pancakes, and some fruit cut up in adorable shapes, all for Viktor’s delight.

“I—I made you breakfast. To say I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, voice shaky as he extends the tray out towards a surprised Viktor.

Viktor studies the tray in Yuuri’s hand, taking it silently. He’s wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms that hug loosely around his hips. They give Yuuri a perfect glimpse at the cut of Viktor’s abs and the way the ripples tempt his hands to touch. He so badly wants to touch, but he knows better. Right now, he has to approach slowly.

“I was worried. You never sleep in,” Yuuri whispers, licking his lips nervously. He’s only wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of white socks with patches of blue. Self-conscious, he begins to rub his right foot against his left shin. “Are you feeling okay?”

Viktor nods, looking down at the food.

“This looks delicious, la—Yuuri.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri’s voice breaks. He worries at his bottom lip before he says, “I meant what I said yesterday evening. I was acting irrationally. I don’t, I don’t want a divorce. I don’t want us to end this. Call me selfish, but I just, I just want to be with you because I love you.”

Viktor arches an eyebrow, “Yuuri.”

“It’s fine if you just want to keep things as they are. I don’t even intend to ask you for an explanation as to why you don’t want to have sex with me.”

“Yuuri—”

“No, don’t. I mean it. I realize that, right now, I’m in no position to demand any type of explanation. What I did yesterday has left you shaken, I know, and I intend to do everything I can to re-earn your trust so that you can feel comfortable confiding in me again. That’s a promise, Viktor.”

Viktor sighs, eyes softening as they settle on Yuuri’s face.

“Come and eat with me, lapochka,” he finally says, walking past Yuuri towards the living room.

Yuuri breaths out in relief. _What did I ever do to deserve you,_ he thinks, itching to reach for his phone to tell Sara. _One_ word alone and it feels like his body has shaken all the tension away from his shoulders and neck. He follows behind Viktor, taking a seat on the sofa. He’s not sure how much distance he should keep, but he eagerly waits to watch Viktor eat.

“I got a call from the adoption agency,” Viktor tells him, popping a piece of pancake into his mouth. “They found us a lead.”

“A—already?”

Viktor nods, side-eying him as he reaches for some eggs. He extends his fork out, pressing some eggs against Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri accepts and chews slowly.

“Lilia thinks we could have them here in a month. That is, if we still want them.”

“Them?” Yuuri swallows, reaching for a glass of orange juice. “There’s—it’s multiples?”

“Twins,” Viktor smiles. “Thai, German, Russian. Two months now. They have Russian names. Apparently, twins can be a little more difficult to place together, but priority is given to those that might consider the possibility.”

“T—the possibility? You mean they’d separate them?”

“It’s an adoption case, not a foster to adopt situation,” Viktor continues, and Yuuri can see the way his shoulders tense. “Lilia says she’ll see if she can send some pictures, assuming you want them.”

“M—me?”

“I want them. But, I guess, the real question is whether you still want children. With me. I realize with everything that has happened, maybe you’ve changed your mind.”

Yuuri nods, not even stopping to give the question a second thought. He reaches for Viktor’s hands, taking them into his own and bringing them up to his lips. “Of course, I want them! Viktor, if, if we’re the best shot those babies have at being together, then we have to do this. We should do this. I can see just from your face how much you want them. If you want them, then I want them. I told you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what.”

“You realize the babies are permanent. As in, ten years from now, we’ll still be their parents, no matter what happens.”

“What’s going to happen?” Yuuri tips his head, confused. “Viktor, what’s—”

He remembers then that he’d promised not to ask. His opportunity was yesterday and instead of being patient, he’d rushed head first into disaster, like the ball of anxious energy he tends to be. Now, he’s going to need to let Viktor come to him, again, just like he promised. _I’ll re-earn your trust_ , he thinks, licking his lips.

“I want them,” he repeats.

Viktor nods, giving him a small smile. Despite the tentative curve of his lips, though, Viktor’s eyes shine with something precious and light. Yuuri feels like he’s captured a ray of sunlight. It overwhelms him in its warmth. Even while filling out the application, things hadn’t felt quite so real. He’d assumed they’d wait for months, not days. But just seeing the happiness radiating from Viktor into the room makes him feel reassured that he’s made the right decision.

Pretty soon, he lets the news settle in his mind. It rattles through his body then, sending him squealing with a bright smile.  Yuuri throws his arms around Viktor, catching him off-guard, and the plate of pancakes on his lap slides off into the ground. “We’re going to be parents!” he laughs, pressing his forehead against Viktor’s own. Makkachin approaches cautiously, sniffing around their feet. “We’re going to be parents!”

Viktor chuckles, “Yuuri.”

“Aren’t you happy?” Yuuri asks him.

The heavy mask over Viktor’s face finally shatters and he nods, smiling so big tears pool near the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, voice breaking, “I am.”

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Come talk to me over at CuttleMeFishWrites (Tumblr) or CMFWritings (Twitter).
> 
> There’s a strange phrase in Yuuri’s letter. If someone guesses it, I’ve told folks I’ll share a sneak peek of the next chapter on Tumblr tonight/tomorrow. :)

**Re: On Yuuri Nikiforov’s Eyes**

**BrickBooty**

Lifetime Member

So, I’m back with MORE goodies! Did anyone else get a copy of Yuuri Nikiforov’s Vogue cover? Am I the only one dying over his eyes? God. They’re like hot caramel. I scanned some pictures. And then I found more pictures on Google. I can’t seem to stop. If anyone says ‘they’re just brown,’ I will end you. I will _literally_ end you.

Mud is brown. Bears are brown. My dog is brown.

Yuuri Nikiforov’s eyes are like cinnamon and chocolate had a baby and gave birth to the deepest hue of rich coffee-colored eyes the world has ever seen. Ugh. I die. And then I come back to live. If he only looked at me with half the smolder he’s giving that camera, my life would be complete. Seduction, your name is Yuuri Nikiforov’s long eyelashes. Did anyone count that he has TWO rows of eyelashes? He is the prettiest mutant this side of the hemisphere.

**Re: On Yuuri Nikiforov’s Eyes**

**Bolshoip**

Lifetime Member

Is it okay to comment on his eyebrow game here, too? Because his eyebrows were on point. Do you think he fills them in with a pencil or…? Is there plucking or waxing involved for shaping…?

**Re: On Yuuri Nikiforov’s Eyes**

**BrickBooty**

Lifetime Member

HIS EYEBROWS! How could I have been so blind? You’re right. BUT BLASPHEMY! There’s no pencil or wax magic here. They’re naturally perfect. BRB, going to make another thread to talk about his eyebrows because WOW. His eyebrows. HIS EYEBROWS! I have no words. I just want to run my thumb right over them.

**Re: On Yuuri Nikiforov’s Eyes**

**Adelth**

New Member

Yuuri Nikiforov can pluck _me_ anytime.

.

Yuuri spends the rest of the day cleaning out his closet. He tends to keep his bedroom relatively clear, having grown used to small dorm rooms and owning little other than clothing. Viktor, on the other hand, has packed his room to the brim with everything – medals, photos, clothes, and even presents from his fans. Trying to find space for himself in Viktor’s world feels like enough of a challenge that Yuuri breaks out in hives. He resorts to stuffing his things into trash bags and boxes, anything and everything that will let him send things to temporary storage until they can figure out how to share a bedroom. When Yuuri’s room is empty, it feels like an accomplishment.

The feeling is short-lived.

“Yuuri, where are all your pants?” Viktor asks, horrified when they realize Yuuri didn’t have enough space in Viktor’s drawers to stuff anything other than shirts and socks.

Retroactively, they realize they’ve given the babies the master bedroom, which would be fine but unrealistic to pass an inspection. Infants don’t need such a large bedroom.

“We need to move into the other room,” Yuuri whispers, sleepy as he yawns against Viktor’s neck. Viktor smells like expensive soap and cologne and is growing a little stubble under his jaw. Yuuri has never been close enough to feel Viktor’s stubble against his skin before; it sends a delicious shiver up his spine and he cuddles closer, smiling when he feels a strong arm wrap tight around his middle. It feels like finally being welcomed into Viktor’s space.

“The big room?” Viktor says between yawns. He nuzzles against Yuuri’s head, already drunk on sleep. “You have very soft hair. The _softest_ hair, Yuuri. It’s like your hair is pure silk, only nicer. So much nicer. I feel like I’m touching an angel’s wings. It’s like I’m dying. Or maybe I’m already dead?”

Viktor has never talked to Yuuri in fragments before, and certainly never betrayed some of his deeper thoughts about Yuuri’s _anything_. It’s nice and familiar, like being stuck in a dream.

“Thank you,” Yuuri hums with a light chuckle, barely registering when he falls asleep.

.

Sara is the one that connects all the dots.

Yuuri spends the pre-dawn morning munching on toast instead of at the gym with Viktor, mostly because, after sleeping against Viktor’s side, he’s having some problems settling his thoughts. He scrolls through screenshot after screenshot and enjoys the softness of Viktor’s oversized sweatpants on his legs.

Yuuri hugs his legs tight to his chest, eyes wide as he reads about himself: _On Yuuri Nikiforov’s lips. On Yuuri Nikiforov’s feet._ He gives his toes a scrutinizing look mid-way through the fifth page. It seems every part of Yuuri has been eulogized in explicit and extensive detail by some guy that has taken as his nest an online body builders’ forum. There’s something warm that settles in Yuuri’s lower belly when he begins to read _An Ode to Yuuri Nikiforov’s Thighs_ , which apparently ends with “ _let me die crushed between them_ , _that I may find haven in the pleasure of their strength_ ,” and Yuuri realizes that’s not exactly romantic or polite, but this person ( **BrickBooty** ) certainly understands _desire_ —and has anyone desired Yuuri like this since he first discovered the feeling of an orgasm on top of a Viktor Nikiforov poster? (Which is not something he should share, ever.) Probably not.

(His brain is a one-stop train dedicated to Viktor; this is a problem. It’s throwing all his plans out the window.)

**I Eat Pasta**

What do you think?

**Yuuri**

It’s… a lot to process. I’m unsure if I’m flattered or freaked out. Did you read all of these?

**I Eat Pasta**

Of course! A good journalist has to be thorough ;)

**Yuuri**

I’m so embarrassed… but also really flattered? I still fail to see how this is the answer to my problem. This doesn’t change that Viktor doesn’t want me, except to get the adoption agency to handover the twins. This also doesn’t fix the fact that I haven’t even started on the Big Bang submission for LITS. It also doesn’t take my mind off his ass. Why can’t I stop thinking about his ass this morning?

**I Eat Pasta**

Are you kidding? THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED! To feel desired? To feel loved? – There’s someone that obviously lives right in your same building THAT WORSHIPS THE GROUND YOU WALK ON! If anything, this might give Viktor the wake-up call he needs to take care of you!

At the min., it is amazing fodder for a fic.

And I’m sorry about the ass thing. I don’t have any answers for you there.

**Yuuri**

That’s infidelity.

I don’t want to write about my OTP committing infidelity, if I’m not even willing to consider it for myself. And sorry about the ass comment. I’m pathetic this morning. Even my poodle is trying to lick my face, which means I must look like someone died.

**I Eat Pasta**

I mean, infidelity only if you pursue it with romantic intentions. What about just making a new friend? Think about it like that!

**Yuuri**

I guess a new friend would be okay. And this is the same guy that runs that blog? The relationship advice one?

**I Eat Pasta**

Yup! Just write him.

**Yuuri**

What if he tells Viktor?

**I Eat Pasta**

Oh right. He’s going to walk over to him at the gym and say, “Yo, bro, I’m macking on your husband and I think you should know we’re incredibly in love because he wrote me an email.”? Come on! Viktor will laugh and not even believe it.

**Yuuri**

Until he sees that it _is_ my e-mail!

**I Eat Pasta**

This guy sounds SO into you, I doubt he’d do you like that. Maybe you can frame it as needing relationship advice. Something. Anything. 

**Yuuri**

Fine. But if this backfires, I’m coming for you.

.

Here’s what Yuuri knows:

  1. In another 24 hours, his apartment is going to be inspected by the adoption agency and representatives of the local government to ensure Viktor and Yuuri are living in a space fit to welcome a pair of beautiful twin girls, which means Yuuri has to figure out how to start hauling all his clothes _and_ Viktor’s stuff into the master bedroom he has inhabited _by himself_ for two years. That means trying to figure out how to sneak out his (forgotten) collection of Viktor Nikiforov posters from under his bed and into the trash. Apparently, that one’s easy! All it takes is $50 for the kid (Yuri) that runs some errands around the building. (“What’s in here anyway?” Yuri asks, holding the black bag at arm’s length.)


  1. In the bustle and tumble of moving rooms, Yuuri has misplaced his engagement ring. He would be the first after over one-hundred years to lose the _Dream of the Nile_ , or Danny for short. Yuuri has actually lost Danny somewhere in their apartment and he’s pretty sure that has to be some sort of omen for bad luck. (It doesn’t help when Seung-Gil starts screaming, “You lost the rock! How could you lose a rock so big it has its own name?” – And Yuuri is a little curious about _how_ he managed to do that, too.)


  1. Apparently, all of Yuuri’s life has decided to turn itself upside down today because Yuuri is the most famous writer in the Love in the Streets fandom with 95 stories to his name and an impressive following of thousands of AO3 subscribers. And yet he can’t seem to write convincing enough smut for his husband’s fans, who have decided Viktor Nikiforov would never lick his husband’s ass. (“Well, joke’s on you, Niki4ovGyal,” Yuuri says through gritted teeth as he slams his fingers on the keyboard. “Because I know his inseam size.” He decides it’s best not to comment on the licking thing, seeing as it has never happened. Yuuri will be damned before giving Nki4ovgyal a public victory.)


  1. Yuuri suffers from anxiety, which means this is _all_ an attempt at deflecting attention from the task at hand, which is to write to an online body building and relationship advice columnist obsessed with his lips.


  1. Look, Yuuri doesn’t have a problem. He has a Viktor. It’s Viktor who won’t _fuck him_. And maybe that was a little aggressive. (“I… need to drink some tea before I write this e-mail. I can’t just go telling a total stranger: “Please help me figure out how to get my husband to fuck me.” God, what’s wrong with me this morning, Makka?”)


  1. Yuuri knows his problem. He’s gay (which is, in itself, a glorious fact and not a problem) and married ( _so_ married – where is his ring?), and he’s head over heels, completely, _stupidly_  in love with his perfect spouse (and so _thirsty_ , like he had a moment where he actually considered rutting against a poster like a teenager, which is the real problem), to the point where he cannot function from the frustration he’s feeling this morning. Somehow, Yuuri thought things would be fine now that they were at least sharing a bed. Instead, that untapped something in Yuuri’s brain that he can’t shut off now.  



This is what Yuuri’s doesn’t know:

  1. BrickBooty is Viktor Nikiforov, his husband, who can’t seem to stop writing online about how much he loves Yuuri.
  2. Viktor, his husband, would _love_ nothing more than to have sex with him, except he genuinely believes Yuuri is only in it for their arranged marriage contract and the babies and the easiest way to resolve this whole issue would be for them to get divorced and re-married—and Yuuri’s already lost his old engagement ring, so they’re half-way there!
  3. Viktor is currently doing a hundred and fifty push-ups to try to get over the raging _want_ that has consumed his entire morning since waking up and finding Yuuri drooling on his chest, because apparently even _that’s_ a turn-on now.



And  _this_  is what Yuuri is about to find out:

“Why do you have an open bag of gummy penises in your bedside table?” Yuuri asks with a giggle, still sitting on his knees. He’s spent the last hour trying to help Viktor clear out his room for the big move (again). So far, the discoveries have been illuminating, including Makkachin’s hidden collection of chewing bones under Viktor’s bed; a shirt with Makkachin’s puppy face; and, now, lemon-flavored gummy penises.

Yuuri will need to send Chris a thank you note, if this leads to them finally getting ahead (or _some_ head, because Yuuri is a mess).

Viktor looks a minute from dying of embarrassment as he groans and tries to snatch the bag from Yuuri’s hand: “Bachelor party joke from Chris. I guess I never threw them out.”

“And you ate them?” Yuuri presses on, a sparkle in his eye as he gives the bag a sniff. “Still good, I think. Should I…?”

  
“Yuuri!” Viktor gasps, eyes wide. He tries to hide his red-face with his palms, but ends up peeking through his fingers. “I can’t believe—did you just eat one?”

Yuuri nods, face turning sour as he coughs it out into his hand (definitely not something he’ll be doing again), “That’s disgusting. It’s like cough-syrup penis gummies. Who would do that? That’s so gross.”

“That’s why I never finished them,” Viktor winces. He takes the opportunity to finally take the bag and dump it into the trash. “I’m pretty sure I only eat them when I have a sore throat.”

Yuuri gives him a deadpan look, already dipping his hand back into the drawer, “You’re kidding. Oh, ew, something is leaking in here!”

“Just stop looking through there, _please_ ,” Viktor begs, moving to lift his husband from the ground and reach for a few tissues to clean his hand. Yuuri had obviously found the lube. This day was starting to get considerably worst. Thing is, Yuuri could _easily_ deal with his own, personal sexual frustrations, but knowing Viktor kept lube and gummy penises and all types of things that meant he was probably satiating his own needs was a teaser Yuuri did _not_ need right now (or ever). “Here, help me with this drawer. It’s completely PG and full of bland, white shirts.”

Yuuri pouts, “You don’t trust me with your PG-13 drawer?”

“No. I just want you to be able to look at me in the face after our move,” Viktor chuckles, pressing a soft kiss on top of Yuuri’s head.

“Oh? What else is in there?” Yuuri hums, already trying to make his way back to the drawer of mysterious artifacts that are sure to drive him even crazier. Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri, hauling him gently back to the boring white shirts. “Viktor…”

“Nothing. I’ll clean it out quickly, okay? I promise I won’t bring anything Chris has given me over to your bedroom.”

“The gummy penises can stay, but you can bring the lube,” Yuuri says, licking his lips as he studies Viktor’s shocked expression.

.

Viktor feels like he just had a mental heart-attack, by which he legitimately felt his brain pulsate at the smoldering look Yuuri just sent him while encouraging him to _bring the lube_. It’s tragic. He has to spend ten minutes cleaning out his special drawer while trying to pretend he can’t feel Yuuri trying to peek over his shoulder.

“You can bring that, too,” Yuuri says, jarring Viktor’s concentration as his hand falls on a box of old condoms.

“ _Okay_ ,” Viktor squeaks, immediately dumping the box into the trash. “I’m done now, so I’m going to start with the stuff in the bathroom.”

Yuuri laughs, biting his bottom lip as he starts on Viktor’s jeans: “You know I’m only teasing you because you are letting this bother you. You never let anything bother you.”

“I’m not bothered,” Viktor sing-songs from the bathroom.

“Your face when I ate that penis,” Yuuri chuckles.

“Because you looked like you were about to choke!”

“Hm, isn’t that an image,” Yuuri murmurs, just loud enough the Viktor can still hear him and proceed to drop three different bottles of expensive cologne.

(By the time they’ve moved everything into the master bedroom, they’re exhausted enough that Viktor gives up on his green smoothie diet and orders them a pizza.

They eat on the bed, and regardless of how nervous Viktor feels about sharing a bed again, there’s something about the way Yuuri looks, soft and inviting with wet hair and a towel around his neck, sockless feet barely grazing Viktor’s knee as they eat pizza, that feels just perfect and inviting. Viktor’s not sure he can let this go, now that he has it.

When Yuuri crawls over his legs and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth to lick away some errant tomato sauce, Viktor knows—just from the shaky breath rattling through his chest—that he really can’t let this go.

Of course, they proceed to _only_ make-out for a good hour.

Viktor’s never been of the opinion that they kiss too much, but thinking about it objectively, with a sleeping Yuuri resting on his arm, it’s obvious that they kiss too much. It’s going to be the death of Viktor, until the girls move in and take over their full attention.)

.

Lilia shows up _very_ early the next day and finds Yuuri and Viktor barely functioning over a sad-looking breakfast of toast, coffee, and gummy bears. Viktor is practically dumping coffee into his mouth, barely able to focus on Lilia. Yuuri can’t even seem to find his engagement ring.

“What is wrong with you two?” Lilia chastises them both, trying to backtrack Yuuri’s steps to find the Dream of the Nile. She’d had a vision. Her vision is apparently not going to come true in time for the inspectors to see the _perfect_ Nikiforov family of Vogue and O, the Oprah Magazine.

“We had a long night,” Yuuri sighs, handing Viktor the comb to help him slick his hair back.

Lilia hums, disinterested in the information. When she spots a glint hidden between Makkachin’s blanket and toys, she practically lunges for the ring along with the dog and saves it just before Makkachin can decide to snack on it and send them all running for emergency care. She raises the Dream of the Nile high up in the air, victorious as she grabs Yuuri’s arm and roughly slips the ring over his finger. “There, now we just need to—”

“I went and washed my face again to wake up,” Yuuri yawns, sleepily searching for Viktor’s lap.

“I’m awake,” Viktor groans, eagerly accepting the warmth of Yuuri’s body so he can rest his face against his back. “Almost awake.”

“I’ll start on the pre-inspection. You two get it together!”

She comes back a minute later with an empty box of pizza hanging from her index finger.

“There’s pizza on the bed. As in, your bed is literally cheese and tomato and dog slobber right now. How did you even sleep on that?—I’m a minute from calling this whole thing off! Were you two drunk last night?”

That works to wake them up as Yuuri makes a run to check on Makkachin and Viktor sprints to their bed to haul the sheets off to the laundry room.

.

## "We're Adopting."

captainadwen

**Summary:**

Now that Viktor has retired, Yuuri is hoping they can make some important decisions together—like adopting. “You mean, like a dog?” Viktor asks, smiling wide as he rubs behind Makkachin’s ears. Yuuri shakes his head, “No, I mean like a baby. A human baby.”

.

“I’m not usually one to get ahead of myself,” their home inspector, Brittany, says as she leans in, and Yuuri thinks his heart might pop out of his chest, “but you two look so nervous right now. Look, I think the apartment is great. You have the space. This looks like a good home; safety wise, you passed with flying colors and I have faith you’ll be fine with the personal health checks. It’s a good neighborhood. I think you’re going to be fine parents, based on your interviews. You can breathe.”

Yuuri almost collapses into Viktor’s arms from relief. They stare at each other, smiling brightly. Yuuri doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not flashing his giant rock of an engagement ring when he rests a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

“That’s fantastic news!” Viktor says, clasping his hands together.

In the background, Lilia looks pleased with herself as she talks to her assistant.

“No one comes out of these unscathed, though,” Brittany explains, “So you’re definitely going to get a list of some suggestions – to help you, mainly some tips. I give these to everyone. But I think you’re going to move forward just fine.”

And considering everything they’ve been through in the last two days, it’s exactly what Yuuri wants to hear.

(Naturally, Lilia still decides to chastise them over their morning mishaps and reminds them that _babies are responsibilities_ , with the same tone others use to imply that Yuuri and Viktor are _honeymooning_ too much. Yuuri itches to tell her that there’s been no _honeymooning_ at all. The babies will have their full attention. But they sit together, listening patiently, and when she’s gone, Viktor whoops and lifts Yuuri and spins him until they’re both breathless and dizzy on the couch.)

.

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject: Hello

Hi BrickBooty,

I don’t even know how to begin this email. My name is Yuuri Nikiforov. A friend of mine showed me some posts you’d been making about me and pointed out that you run a relationship advice blog. I guess I’m having some issues with my relationship, which I can’t exactly talk to my close friends about. This might seem really silly, but I figured since we lived in the same apartment and you seem to like me so much, maybe you’d be okay with getting coffee together some time and just talking? – I’d need your absolute discretion of course.

Let me know what you think?

Yuuri

.

Viktor can hear Yuuri laughing with his laptop again. He assumes he’s talking to Phichit and takes advantage of his few minutes alone to rest with a cup of tea in the living room and his own laptop. With the babies and Yuuri and everything, he’s – as usual – been neglecting his blog and community of ‘buddies.’ He prepares to log-in to tell his friends he failed the smoothie challenge for the first time in years, only to get sidetracked with his e-mail.

**[Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov) **

**Subject: Hello**

“Oh shit,” he curses against his fist.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Sorry the text messages between BB and Yuuri aren’t in image/text message generator format yet. My Internet is being the literal worst and won’t upload the images, so for now it’s all text-based and I’ll be sure to go back and add the pretty images at a later point.  
> As always, please come say hello over at CuttleMeFishWrites (Tumblr) and CMFWritings (Twitter). 
> 
> Sorry for the fast updates, too. We’re just, like, two chapters from the finish line and I am reworking/trying to ensure everything is still on track. These boys are definitely good at derailing me and making sure I change my plans constantly.

This is what Viktor knows:

    1. BrickBooty (BB) joined the Body Fit Buddies (BFB) forum because he got kicked out from that one Viktor Nikiforov forum for writing too much about Yuuri Nikiforov, his husband, and honestly, how dare they kick out the _real_ Viktor Nikiforov from a Viktor Nikiforov fan club when he made it so obvious it was him? (“I mean, my username was _GoldBlades_ , who else would be _GoldBlades_ and obsessed with Yuuri Nikiforov?” he complains to his adorable poodles, Vicchan and Makkachin. Makkachin ignores him for Yuuri’s sneakers. Vicchan seems a lot more sympathetic, asking to lay on Viktor’s lap.)
    2. It’s not that Viktor is insecure, but that he _likes_ looking good. The fact his husband is unfairly, almost inhumanly beautiful is just another reason to ensure he’s always go that _ready body_ on speed dial because he cannot handle _one more online rant_ (looking at you, Tumblr!) about how Yuuri Nikiforov “deserves better.” So, in a way, joining BFB is also about ensuring Viktor looks good for Yuuri, which makes it all the more pathetic he can’t get Yuuri naked.
    3. Viktor is an AMAZING writer and that was an unexpected talent for him. He’s also recently become very obsessed with fanfiction, as in there is a positive correlation between the length of time he’s been keeping a silent torch for Yuuri and the more fanfiction he consumes. So far, he’s really loving the stuff being published by _yuurionlove_. But, seriously, his obsession is a problem. He has no one with whom to discuss his addiction. (“Oh my god, Makka! Risa-cat-chan finally updated _Under This Same Sky_ , and I think I will cry if King Viktor doesn’t give up his harem for Yuuri. Ooh, but wait, PossiblePlatypus also just published a one-shot. I can’t decide what to read first!”)
    1. Viktor feels only marginally bad that he convinced BFB to keep the “Viktor Nikiforov Inspiration” thread secret because some of his ab shots are so good he kind of wishes the paparazzi would get their hands on them. (“Yeah, National Enquirer, what secret-seventy-year-old would have abs like these, huh?” Viktor cackles. And Yuuri pokes him, “A—are you okay, Vitya? You just did this weird villain laugh.”)
    2. Viktor _loved_ and still yearns to go back to competitive skating, but his Tumblr love advice blog really gave his life meaning. It’s one of those things that he wishes he could share with Yuuri. But he knows it’s not a good idea. The fact that he almost had a heart-attack when he saw his husband’s e-mail in his inbox just proves what a bad idea that would’ve been!
    3. Oh, sometimes Viktor gets fan mail and it drives Yuuri a little crazy for no reason whatsoever because Viktor has eyes for no one other than Yuuri. (“Can you stop sulking, please?” Viktor begs on his knees while he kisses Yuuri’s fists. “I don’t care about anyone’s ass tattoos. I promise.” – It’s not that Yuuri is the jealous type, because he’s not, but sometimes he does get a _little_ intense when he’s already anxious.)



This is what Viktor doesn’t know:

    1. His darling husband Yuuri is actually _yuurionlove_ , the author of Kisses Taste Like Spinach, Puppy Love (which was so cute), and the newest multi-chapter PWP (well, with some plot,) Want a Taste? And Viktor really does want a taste (assuming that’s not a rhetorical question).
    2. Yuuri wants to fuck Viktor just as badly as Viktor wants to worship Yuuri’s body nightly, forever (starting with his feet, because Yuuri might have given Viktor a fetish he did not have before they got married). This is a problem. Mainly because Viktor doesn’t know how to tell Yuuri that he wants _that_ because this whole arranged marriage situation is cramping his style.
    3. Yuuri is currently constantly anxious because he’s sexually frustrated, which means Viktor should be spending all his time making tea instead of leaving the apartment with the dogs to gather his thoughts.



And this is what he’s about to find out:  

Viktor isn’t one for cursing. It was a habit he picked up (very briefly) during his first year at boarding school and that his mother _rushed_ to make sure he lost quickly. Very quickly. It’s how he got a pony. However, all things considered, this moment is worthy of a curse.

“Everything okay, Vitya?” Yuuri asks, leaning against the doorframe to stare at him.

Viktor looks over his shoulder, nodding, “Oh, yeah, fine. I just hit my knee with… something.”

And isn’t that smoldering look going to be the death of him? – God. Has Yuuri always looked at him like that? (Viktor is convinced this is all wishful thinking, like his body has decided to betray him so close to the finishing line.) Yuuri narrows his eyes, lashes acting like a beckoning fan as he says, “You want me to _rub_ it all better?”

Viktor can only choke on his own tongue, shaking his head rapidly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he squeaks, focusing his eyes on the computer screen again. _[Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)_. Definitely Yuuri’s e-mail address. The Nikifor.ov domain is for family only. He waits until he knows Yuuri has returned to the bedroom before he opens the e-mail and feels his blood pressure drop significantly. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he says, with the intonation of a man that has felt the release of all sense slip from his brain.

That, naturally, sends Yuuri running back for the door.

“ _Vitya_ ,” he sings, grinning again. “What are you doing?”

“Reading emails,” he replies, clearing his throat and trying to keep the screen pressed flush to his chest.

“Hm. Must be some e-mail,” Yuuri pouts, walking back to the bed. He types rapidly, almost furiously, and Viktor can tell he’s feeling anxious. It’s very typical of Yuuri to get upset when one of Viktor’s fans takes too many liberties—something they do quite often. One time, they’d been reading cute emails from children together, only to get smacked in the face by a very adult email from a fan who had decided to send a picture of her new breast tattoo: A big, giant _Viktor_ in cursive. It wasn’t as bad as the bad fanfiction. Yuuri had seemed far more upset by _that_. “Fan with an overactive imagination again? Did they send a picture?”

“I promise there’s no pictures,” Viktor tells him, scrolling over the email again.

“If it’s the fanfiction chick again, tell her I’m going to personally cut her!” Yuuri jokes.

“Somehow I think that would result in a lawsuit, lapochka. No fanfiction. Just, you know, a sweet, touching story. It’s completely benign and innocent. Promise.”

“If you say so, Vitya.”

Viktor isn’t sure that he’s not lying. He double checks that he’s logged onto the right email. When he discovers he _is_ , he decides the lie is fully warranted – and also, _why is his precious husband writing to a public relationship advice forum_? They’re doing great! Okay, so they’re not doing great, but they’re fine. He tries to remain very quiet as he clicks on the e-mail link.

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject: Hello

Hi BrickBooty,

I don’t even know how to begin this email. My name is Yuuri Nikiforov. A friend of mine showed me some posts you’d been making about me and pointed out that you run a relationship advice blog. I guess I’m having some issues with my relationship, which I can’t exactly talk to my close friends about. This might seem really silly, but I figured since we lived in the same apartment and you seem to like me so much, maybe you’d be okay with getting coffee together some time and just talking? – I’d need your absolute discretion of course.

Let me know what you think?

Yuuri

 _Since we lived in the same apartment_. Viktor blindly reaches across the sofa for the nearest blanket to pull it over his head. _He knows!_ his brain supplies, entering immediate panic mode. He can feel his heart high-fiving his stomach and assumes it’s the stress (and not the fact he’s been eating junk food two nights in a row). _Oh my god, he knows! You’re so screwed. He knows you’ve been writing lustful posts about him on Body Fit Buddies. And he knows it’s you!_

Makkachin chooses that moment to dump a leash on his lap. He stares at his dog, eyes wide: “Good idea, Makka! Yuuri! I’m going out for a walk with Makkachin!” he says, running for the closet to grab a sweatshirt. He only feels a little guilty he doesn’t take the time to go into the bedroom and reach under the bed for Vicchan, too. His other son is in the line of fire, though, and Viktor can’t risk it.

Yuuri is just walking out then, heading for the kitchen. He is reaching for tea. And Viktor knows exactly what that means. He knows the right reaction should be to take the tea from his hands, make him a cup, and cuddle Yuuri until all his anxiety is gone. But, instead, he takes another look at his laptop and feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s either breathing oxygen outside or asphyxiating himself with a blanket. He chooses life.

“Right now?” Yuuri asks, looking a little lost. He seems to be shaking his mug a little, like a lost toddler with a teddy bear. _I’m anxious_ , Viktor reads mentally, _please don’t go_ , and still he ignores every single sign.

“Yup! I’ll be back soon!”

And with that, he slams the door closed.

.

**Phichit**

Everything okay? You cut off the audio really fast

**Yuuri**

Viktor’s reading fan mail. :(

**Phichit**

Fanfiction chick or tattoo girl?

Wait. Is it ass tattoos again?

**Yuuri**

He says it’s neither, but you should’ve heard the way he moaned just now. _Oh my god_ , and everything. And whatever her saw made him hit his knee.

**Phichit**

What did he say?

**Yuuri**

That it was nothing. “Innocent,” my ass though, Peach. He was shielding the screen from me!

**Phichit**

*fabulous ass

Bitch, that’s serious! OMG, you don’t think he’s cheating on you, do you?

**Yuuri**

Right? I told him I’m gonna cut the bitch!!! Jokingly. But I said it.

**Phichit**

Daaaaamn, Yuuri. _That’s_ a little aggressive… maybe don’t get yourself a court order?

**Yuuri**

Is it aggressive? I’ve been really on edge recently. Sorry.

**Phichit**

Yeaaaaah. Go get yourself some tea and come back so you can give me all the deets on what’s got you so on edge

**Yuuri**

Ugh, sorry, it’s this sex thing. I think it’s screwing up my sleep and making me do and say all types of crazy things…

**Phichit**

WHAT?! OMG ARE YOU TWO EXPERIMENTING AGAIN? Because I don’t know that I can handle that again. Last time you looked like a zombie

**Yuuri**

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO… I have said too much. Ugh. I gotta go.

**Phichit**

You can’t leave me hanging like this!!

**Yuuri**

It’s just we’ve stopped having sex because of all this stress with the babies. That’s all. It’s not a big deal. I’m just tripping all over myself with insecurity and anxious energy about it because you know I hate the gym and I have nothing to occupy myself with… it’ll get better once we start on the nursery.

**Phichit**

I knew you were looking all types of insecure. Don’t worry! I’m sure it’s just stress… Viktor adores you! He’d never leave you for a third-rate fanfiction writer! OMG THAT’S IT! You should write him a fic!

**Yuuri**

I should do what now? NO WAY! Peach, he can _never_ know I write fanfiction

**Phichit**

But he knows you write. He’s told you a million times he’d love to read your stuff

**Yuuri**

But I don’t know that I could survive my husband knowing I write dirty stories about fictional television characters. Bad idea. I’m gonna get myself some tea and we’re going to talk about something else. Anything else. How are my nephews?

**Phichit**

My children are fine. I bought them a new cage.

Don’t change the subject. But yes, go get yourself some tea. I can feel your anxious energy from across the screen

AND THEN WE CAN PLOT YOUR RAUNCHY SELF-INSER FIC!

**Yuuri**

No

.

Viktor is gone for a long time. It gives Yuuri too much time to think.

The thing is that it’s not altogether a _terrible_ idea. Viktor is very susceptible to reading stuff. His husband was always a bookworm, and there is nothing Yuuri loves more than catching Viktor with a book on the couch. Yuuri hugs his knees close to his chest as he sips on some tea. And then his phone pings. He stretches to reach for it, amazed to see a message from BrickBooty.

From: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

To: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

Subject: RE: Hello

“Since we lived in the same apartment”? Typo? If you lived with me, I’m pretty sure I’d be making you more than coffee every day. ;)

-BB

Yuuri sits up. He can feel his cheeks get warm from the message.

“I—is he actually trying to flirt with me? Oh my god, I have to tell Sara!”

(Telling Sara is actually not very helpful. Naturally, Sara’s inner shipper is having a field day trying to push Yuuri to live his very own real-life fanfiction. Yuuri’s not sure he can handle that right now and little Vicchan is paying the price. The poor poodle can only whine and paw at Yuuri’s arms to untangle himself from the bearhug trapping him.)

.

Viktor turns to Chris in his time of need.

“Oh my god, my husband is looking to have an Internet fling because we haven’t had sex in two years,” Viktor cries in Chris’ living room. Alex brings him a glass of red wine and sits next to him, rubbing soothing circles over his back. Makkachin whines and paws against the bedroom door; on the other side, Chris’ cat remains peacefully asleep, or at least safe and on alert that there’s now a dog in the apartment.

Chris takes the phone from Viktor, reading over Yuuri’s message. Nothing about it reads like a fling. It’s very typical Yuuri: _Sorry! I mistyped. I meant same apartment building_. _Does that mean you’d get coffee with me sometime?_

Chris rolls his eyes, handing Viktor his phone back.

A part of him is confused and hurt that his favorite shameless and sexy couple has, apparently, been neither shameless nor sexy with each other.

It’s all so implausible, and he wouldn’t have believed it if Viktor hadn’t shown up looking a minute from death saying: “My husband is trying to cheat on me with a sexier version of me.” (Of course, Chris was interested in the details then. Who wouldn’t be? _That_ was juicy stuff. He should’ve known it was all bullshit; outside of himself and Yuuri, who was sexier than Viktor?) And then proceeded to explain that, in two years, they hadn’t gone beyond making out and a grope or two, one of which happened just a night ago. (Then, Chris wasn’t really interested; he was just depressed because this proved that Viktor Nikiforov _still_ had no game, even after all of Chris’ advice and lessons through the years. His little workaholic was still a workaholic.)

“So, all the stories you told me were lies?” Chris cries, hand shaking around his wine glass. Alex rushes over to console his boyfriend. “What about the night you two spent contorting yourselves into pretzels?”

“Actually happened. It was a fantastic game Twister. We just didn’t do it naked. Yuuri is extremely flexible; I would never lie about that!”

“Chris, focus,” Alex elbows him. Chris would like to focus, but he can’t. This is _tragic_. He can’t understand why no one else sees that.

“I am focused! He lied to me and now comes to ask for my help. Look, Viktor, I helped you. He has no clue it’s you! But now I need answers. Do you know how I feel? Do you know how much sex we’ve had to try and keep up with the Nikiforovs?”

Alex nods, “It’s been a lot. I’ve been going to physical therapy for a pulled muscle.”

“Okay, true, and I’m sorry!” Viktor acknowledges with some relief, “But that doesn’t help me. He wants to get coffee!”

Chris sniffs, “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

Alex brightens instantly, “Oh, I’ll be right back! I think I know just how to fix this!”

(The answer is a phone. Viktor stares at the old iPhone, surprised that Alex even kept the old thing. He considers complaining about the cracked screen, but the realizes beggars can’t be choosers. He can buy another phone later. Right now, the fact it’s fully functional is a miracle.

“Wait, why do you have a second phone?” Chris asks his boyfriend through narrowed eyes.

Alex beams, “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

Chris licks his lips and Viktor decides he time has come to run for the hills: “You are so good at keeping the mystery in our relationship alive. Come here so I can kiss you.”)

.

“Quick!” Sara squeals, “Oh my god. Write him back. Say something sexy because you know he has to be hot; he’s the most popular guy in a body building forum.”

Yuuri blushes brightly, hiding his face between his palms, “I’m married!”

“Okay, but your husband doesn’t want to bone you and this guy does!”

It’s an excellent point, but Yuuri’s no sure he wants to send another email so quickly (or have sex with this total stranger because the whole point of this is that he wants to have sex with Viktor). He’s just going to wait for a little bit, see if anything happens. When his phone pings, he jumps, barely able to hold it in his palms from the excitement. Sara’s expecting face stares back at him from the screen of his laptop.

“And?” she asks, practically vibrating from the excitement.

“H—he sent me his phone number. He says coffee is hard right now because he’s traveling for the month, but he’s happy to exchange texts and help as best as he can!”

“Text him!”

“What do I even say?”

“How about—”

.

_Hey, thanks for sending me your number. This is Yuuri._

“Look at him in his pajamas,” Viktor cries, hugging the phone close to his chest. Alex nods, patting his shoulder as Chris pushes him towards the door. Viktor is in denial that Yuuri would send a stranger a selfie of himself looking so cute in his flannel pajamas.

“Go to him, then,” Alex encourages him in this overly dramatic voice that betrays how much he wants Viktor to just go away so he can finally have some time with Chris.

Look, Viktor gets it. He really does; he’s just in a vulnerable place right now. But hearing Chris fill his hot tub reminds him that it’s better to not push his luck.

.

Yuuri isn’t sure why Viktor comes home, crawls into bed, and doesn’t even bother changing into proper pajamas before wrapping his arms around him and practically sobbing: “Why are you so beautiful?” He doesn’t even bother asking for clarification, because Viktor seems to really like Yuuri in his flannel pajamas—to the point where Yuuri is feeling more like an emotional support stuffed animal than a person.

Makkachin seems to take this as invitation to also bound onto the bed and make a nest by their feet. Vicchan barely pays them any mind, stretching out his small body on the giant bed made for _two_ poodles. That’s probably Yuuri’s fault. He smothered his dog a little bit.

“Vitya?” Yuuri whispers, framing Viktor’s face with his hands. “What is it?”

Viktor sniffles, “Nothing.”

“Nothing’s got you like this?” Yuuri sighs, pressing their foreheads together.

“I just, I love you so much, Yuuri.”

Yuuri feels his heart stop. These are the moments that give him so much hope.

“I love you, too, Viktor. But you know that.”

“And,” Viktor seems to consider his words carefully. He pauses for a long time before saying, “and I want to go shopping for baby stuff tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” Yuuri kisses Viktor’s nose, “That’s why you’re sobbing?”

Viktor nods rather convincingly before he pulls away, “I better go change and brush my teeth and bring Vicchan up here to join us. I don’t think I’ve seen him almost all day.”

“Yeah. I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow. He’s been eating, but also hiding a lot recently. And you know he’s not as young as Makka. Come here, buddy,” Yuuri paws his way off the bed, reaching for his dog to cradle him in his arms. He bounces Vicchan like a baby while Viktor, as he said, strips and brushes his teeth and doesn’t even bother closing the door.

(It’s Yuuri’s new favorite perk of sharing a room together—getting to see Viktor naked. Well, close to naked? It’s _definitely_ a lot more naked than Yuuri can expect to see him any time soon without trying to peek at him in the shower (which Yuuri would _never_ , except for that one time, but it was an accident). Considering the situation he’s in, though, this is as close to a nightly strip session as he’s going to get so Yuuri is going to enjoy it. _Thoroughly._ )

.

## Flannel

_yuurionlove_

**Summary:** Yuuri isn’t sure why Viktor gives him a set of red flannel pajamas on December 25. Usually, Viktor is the one who gets the presents, seeing as it’s Viktor’s birthday. But Yuuri has to admit he loves them. And so does Viktor, given his very visible excitement.

.

Yuuri has never been in the habit of checking Viktor’s table, and he’s still _not_ in the habit of breaking his husband’s privacy, but this is a crisis. He’s trying to make something very special for lunch and Yuuri’s tablet has died, his laptop is all the way in the bedroom charging, and his phone is in use with the Discord family. Besides, Viktor doesn’t even have a security code for it. All Yuuri needs is the Internet to search a good recipe for pirozhkis.

Instead, what he finds is a notification on the front screen saying _[AO3] yuurionlove posted Flannel_.

“Oh my god,” he says, barely registering the conversation happening between Georgi and Emil about a potential Love in the Streets movie.

“I know! It’s so exciting!” Mila squeals.

“No! Oh god. You guys!” Yuuri isn’t even sure how to begin with this one. “I think my husband knows I write fanfiction.”

Georgi is the first one to break the silence, “You mean he didn’t already know that?”

“Do you go telling your significant others you write kinky stories for web audiences?” Yuuri asks, practically on the verge of hyperventilating. He turns off the tablet and immediately runs to set it back on the coffee table. _Out of all the things, why couldn’t he find my LITS fanfiction? Why did it have to be the kinky porn I post about us?_

Isabella chirps, “Of course! JJ is my beta. It was written into our vows.”

Seung-Gil sounds bored as he yawns, “What’s the big deal? Like he couldn’t guess you’re really into LITS. My own mother guessed it before she ever ‘accidentally’ read over my shoulder that one time during our Vegas trip.”

Sara gets it, of course.

“What did he read, Yuuri?”

“M—my Viktor Nikiforov fanfiction.”

“Oh my god!” Sara sounds almost as faint as Yuuri feels.

“Well, maybe this will help him realize you want to bang,” Mila offers, still sounding so helpful.

Emil doesn’t seem as convinced, “Or it’ll make him feel insecure that Yuuri is writing about another Russian man? I feel like Mickey would cry if he knew the things I write.”

“So, should I bring this up or…?”

“Absolutely not!” Emil says.

“Yes!” Isabella and Mila scream.

“Yuuri, are you sure he knows it’s you?” Sara, ever wonderful Sara, acts as the voice of reason. And she’s right. Yuuri doesn’t know that Viktor knows it’s him. There’s an entire world of over 7 billion people. There has to be another Yuuri who loves LITS and has an urging need to write about Viktor Nikiforov and the flannel pajamas only they would know he got for Christmas and—“Yuuri?”

“If he didn’t know, he’s about to… I wrote something really personal.”

“Delete the email and sync the mailboxes now!” Seung-Gil yells. “Bitch, are you listening? This is not a drill. If you want your man to be in the dark that you’re fantasizing about some hot skater's ass, go delete that e-mail right now!”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

Isabella chuckles, “You didn’t think about that before checking his email?”

“I didn’t! I just needed his iPad. Okay, let me go see if I can do what Seunggie said,” Yuuri breathes, rushing to grab the tablet again before Viktor comes home with the dogs.

When the deed is done, he feels only marginally guilty.

“I should delete the story, shouldn’t I?”

Sara sighs, “It’s for the best.”

“But the fangirls finally like this one,” Yuuri groans. “It’s received 20 comments in the last hour.”

“Yuuri!” – They all say it in unison, and Yuuri knows what he needs to do.

.

Viktor is shocked to see more messages from Yuuri to his special BrickBooty number.

 

Yuuri: I think my husband knows that I write erotic fanfiction about us online under a secret penname. I don’t even know how to ask him because we’re not intimate with each other and never have been. I’m sorry to be dumping all this information on you but I’m about to have a panic attack and it feels like I have no one to talk to about this. I have one friend now who knows, but it’s still… awkward?

**BB: This is the problem you were having?**

Yuuri: Half of it? Because I told my husband I didn’t mind if we never had sex, so long as we stayed together because I love him that much. I love him more than I love my dogs. And that’s a crime, because my dogs are the sweetest poodles in the world.

**BB: What makes you think he knows about all that? Did he say something to you?**

Yuuri: I accidentally saw an email alert on his tablet about my new story, which I just had to delete, even though it’s the first one that people actually like and I get that’s not important, but it feels really important to me.

**BB: That’s fair. I’m sorry you had to delete your story. Do you think you’re ready to have a conversation with him about your writing?**

Yuuri: NO, omg no, I can’t. I couldn’t look at him in the eye ever again. I would need to hide under a rock and die. IMMEDIATELY.

**BB: He might have seen the new story already.**

Yuuri: If he did, then he has to know it’s me.

 

(Viktor isn’t sure that’s true. He definitely has no idea who Yuuri could be. And he hasn’t seen any notifications today.)

**BB: Take a minute to calm down. This isn’t the worst thing in the world.**

Yuuri: I’ve spent the last couple of months trying to seduce him using fanfiction tropes I previously wrote about.

**BB: That’s a little weird.**

Yuuri: Don’t judge me. :( I was desperate. I’ve been desperate. I’m desperate to the point of writing a total stranger.

**BB: So, how can I help, gorgeous?**

Yuuri: I don’t know! You’re the relationship guru. 

 

And isn’t that a problem, because Viktor has no idea what to do with all this newfound information. On the one hand, Yuuri loves him and wants him and – it might still be a terrible idea to get together, but it somehow doesn’t feel so _bad_ anymore? On the other hand, Viktor doesn’t know this because Yuuri obviously feels he’s been pressuring Viktor _and_ isn’t ready to talk to Viktor, who he also has no clue is BrickBooty. _Well, this is some mess_ , Viktor thinks.

He could just tell Yuuri he’s BrickBooty.

But that entails an embarrassing confession that he’s been objectifying Yuuri’s body online for months.

No way. Viktor has to be subtler. There’s a way out of this, surely, that doesn’t involve killing them both from the embarrassment of realizing their Internet alter-egos are exceedingly thirsty for each other and may have put them at risk of paparazzi finding out that they’re a mess.

**BB: Well, if you’re not ready to talk to your husband, maybe you just need a confidante. Someone to tell stuff to until you are ready?**

Yuuri: Okay. Are you offering or…?

**BB: Sure, babe. Just think of me as your diary. Whenever you’re panicking about stuff you can’t tell your husband, come to me.**

Yuuri: That’s not emotional infidelity?

**BB: Uh, let’s maybe not go down that rabbit hole.**

.

Yuuri’s entire life is great! It’s like everything has finally returned to normal. Now that the thoughts in his head can go into a phone message instead of making circles inside his brain, he feels a lot less encumbered by constant shame and lust. That leaves a lot more room for him to enjoy waking up next to Viktor in the mornings and go back to being the perfect spouse.

He makes them breakfast, goes on walks in the park with Viktor and the poodles, and even starts going to the gym again, feeling confident he’s not only going to stare at Viktor’s ass because he’s actually hoping he’ll see his new friend around. BB, apparently, has had to extend his trip for a little longer. But that’s okay. Yuuri is feeling good about himself.

So good about himself, he even manages to crank out that Big Bang fic and write another 15,000 words of romantic fanfiction for Love in the Streets (because apparently BB is a fan, who knew?).  _Yuurionlove_ is flourishing. Yuuri is thriving. And the girls' nursery is looking amazing. 

.

Viktor hates his life.

He’s starting to suspect Yuuri is now in love with BB, except Yuuri keeps sending periodic texts full of spastic thoughts about wishing he could bang Viktor and that calms him down significantly. As long as Yuuri still finds him attractive, things are fine and Viktor’s plan remains on schedule. Not that it has been on any type of schedule because, by becoming Yuuri’s confidante as BB, he’s lost his ability to be Yuuri’s best friend as Viktor.

At the rate they’re going, Yuuri is never going to confess anything and Viktor is going to die of blue balls (because, wow, Yuuri has some writing ability), shame (he is way past the turning back point where he could tell Yuuri he’s BB without potentially losing a limb), or sheer stupidity (Viktor is trying to pay actual attention to Love in the Streets when Yuuri watches now because BB is apparently a fan – _what is wrong with him?_ ).

All in all, Viktor is thoroughly _fucked_ , and not in the way he wants.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just tell him!” Chris yells at him through the phone.

And Viktor tries to change the subject to paint colors for the nursery.

They settle on violet.

.

**I Eat Pasta**

So, how’s your confession fanfiction going?

**Yuuri**

Really well, actually! BB thinks writing is emotionally good for me. Even if I never show Viktor, it’s good for me to let it out.

**I Eat Pasta**

He’s starting to sound like your therapist.

**Yuuri**

He’s so much more than that, though! He’s just really funny and sweet and he makes me feel good about myself, even when I’m being stupid about Viktor.

I just wish he’d come back from this long vacation so we could have coffee and binge LITS.

**I Eat Pasta**

Sounds serious ;)

**Yuuri**

What do you mean?

**I Eat Pasta**

Just that you talk about BB a lot more than you talk about Viktor recently…

**Yuuri**

I do? I guess because I text him a lot…

**I Eat Pasta**

That’s all it is? You sure you’re not developing a little crush?

**Yuuri**

Don’t be silly. That’s impossible.

Right? I mean, it’s ridiculous…

**I Eat Pasta**

Is it? Maybe talk to him about it. It's been over a month. 

Doesn’t seem like it. And it’s probably super mutual. 

Yuuri? You okay?

**Yuuri**

Oh shit. I'll call you later? Dealing with something.

.

The day they go pick up Zoya and Lyubov is filled with emotions.

Viktor feels like he’s living the moment twice – once as himself, which is  _incredible_  and  _exciting_ (and he’s never felt as in love as he is with Yuuri right then), and again as BrickBooty (BB). A part of him feels incredibly hurt that Yuuri actually decides to message BB on the way to the agency (BB who is finally coming back from vacation because, damn it, Viktor is desperate):  _Finally getting the girls! I can’t wait to tell you all about it!_  – Viktor reads it from his pocket, gulping hard as he tries to type blindly ( _I’m so happy for you!_ ).

It feels like it’s not enough for Yuuri to experience the moment with Viktor.

Viktor realizes it’s ridiculous to be jealous of himself, but that’s exactly how he feels, so he squeezes Yuuri’s hand tighter, reaches for his other hand to kiss his knuckles, and tries to keep his hands occupied with him.

“What is it?” Yuuri asks him softly, almost sounding amazed by the zealous way in which Viktor claims his hands and his fingers.

“Nothing,” Viktor tells him, still kissing every single one of Yuuri’s finger pads. “Just wanted to remember how your hands feel before the babies.”

Yuuri laughs, shaking his head, “Viktor.”

“Who are you texting so much?” he asks.

Yuuri seems to be completely taken aback by the question. Viktor almost expects him to lie.

“Oh, just, a friend,” he says, easy, unencumbered by BB. “I just wanted to tell them how excited I am that we’re getting the girls.”

.

## [Draft] My Husband is a Liar, and Other Stories on "Live and Love"

_yuurionlove_

**Summary:**  This is the story of how Yuuri Katsuki becomes Yuuri Nikiforov and then proceeds to fall in love with his husband, twice (and feels _very_ stupid about it). Or that one story where Viktor Nikiforov has multiple online personas and can't seem to keep them out of his personal life to the chagrin of his _darling_  husband Yuuri (who is sick of his shit) **. Dedicated to my dear friend BB; may you get your shit together before your husband really leaves you for another** **man.**

**TBC**

 


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! THANK YOU SO MUCH for the amazing support all of you keep showing this story. It means the world! For those of you that don’t know, you can keep in touch with me on Tumblr (CuttleMeFishWrites), where I post lots of sneak peeks and information on my projects (and play a lot of writing games)! :) Including the terrible news that I accidentally lost this chapter and had to re-write it. 
> 
> If you’re interested, you can also find me on Twitter (@CMFWritings) and Discord (CuttleMeFish#8582 – I have a server that is also currently part-timing as a book club!).

**I Eat Pasta**

Is it? Maybe talk to him about it. It's been over a month. 

Doesn’t seem like it. And it’s probably super mutual.

 

Sara’s words throw him for a loop because they feel both removed from the realm of possibility and completely plausible. Most of Yuuri’s conversations with BB are _explicitly_ about Viktor and how frustrated Yuuri feels on any given moment of the day. But he also can’t lie to himself: More and more, these conversations have verged on flirting, from both sides. _Okay, but that doesn’t mean you’re developing a crush_ , he says to himself, like denial is any more efficient than facing reality. It’s not like he’s a minute away from choosing BB (a potentially hot body builder with the personality of a cuddly teddy bear) over his husband (gorgeous, rich former Olympian and skating legend Viktor Nikiforov, with the personability of an overeager poodle).

Yuuri gets it: His prospects are not equally attractive, just unevenly accessible.

However, Sara has a point. Back when it was just BB shooting metaphorical arrows at Yuuri with the aim of a drunken Cupid, it was cute and heartwarming, and it filled Yuuri’s days with something to enjoy. Scrolling through his phone now, though, it’s obvious that Yuuri had started shooting arrows (okay, so wink emojis,) right back, and wasn’t _that_ asking for trouble. So, even though Yuuri was totally still 100% in love with his husband Viktor, he could have been developing a crush on the elusive BB. That was normal, right?  

“Oh god,” he groans. This is the kind of stuff he writes about in fanfics. This isn’t what a respectable, responsible, and reliable husband is supposed to do. This isn’t story dynamics; this is shenanigans.

Slowly, in between hating himself and trying to smother himself with a blanket, Yuuri finally registers the faint sound of a phone. He drags himself out of bed to check the living room. Viktor was out with the dogs, as per usual. Surely, he hadn’t left his phone behind? – Although even Yuuri could guess that was a typical Viktor move ( _am I annoyed or endeared?_ _What has Sara unleashed?_ ). He stuffs his hand into the side of the sofa to pull out a phone.   

The phone stops ringing quickly and starts all over again almost immediately. Yuuri jumps and almost drops it.

 _This_ isn’t Vikor’s phone—or at least not one Yuuri has ever seen. It’s wholly plausible that Viktor has multiple phones, but Yuuri had never pegged him as the type. The very idea worms its way into Yuuri’s mind and burrows, and then it grows: Why would Viktor need a second phone? – _Unless he’s cheating on you! Oh my god!_

The idea is a little bit stupid. If Viktor was going to cheat, he doesn’t need to be sneaky about it considering theirs is an arrangement. The fact they’d taken to it by playing house for over two years now meant very little, all things considered, especially the lack of intimacy.

“Well, he’s definitely not cheating on me with Leo,” Yuuri scoffs, relaxing almost immediately.

**_Leo de la Iglesia_.**

Now, Yuuri would never consider picking up Viktor’s phone without his permission, but Leo seems to be calling insistently and he’s a mutual friend, who almost never calls. If there’s an actual emergency, Yuuri feels compelled to help, especially considering Leo always steps up as the first to help them. Just recently he’d hauled bags full of baby stuff into the new nursery with Yuuri. The week before, he’d made Chris soup when he’d been sick. Leo was an all-around good guy.

“Hello?”

“Alex? Finally! I tried your other phone and Chris’ phone and nothing! It’s Leo. Thank God! I know you said not to disturb you and Chris and I get how important this whole weekend is for you with the new kittens, but I can’t get Snowflake to eat and I’m worried she’s gonna get really sick.”

 _Alex_ , Yuuri thinks, _when was Alex here?_

“I think she _knows_ something is up. She just flips the food bowl and prances away and I don’t—”

“Leo?” Yuuri tries again, clearing his throat. “Hey, it’s Yuuri. It seems Alex forgot his phone at my house.”

“Oh! Yuuri?” Leo sounds just a little too devastated.

“But I might still be able to help? Snowflake is always particular about food. Did you try a little tuna? She can’t resist canned tuna. Just a tiny scoop, though.”

“Canned tuna! Brilliant! Thanks, Yuuri!”

“No problem,” he whispers, hanging up.

Yuuri feels strangely uneasy by the mysterious origin of Alex’s phone—second phone, considering Leo’s words a little more carefully. He pockets the phone, bringing it back to the bedroom to keep chatting with Sara. It’s not really an important mystery; Yuuri can simply ask Viktor when he returns. _BB has been encouraging me to be more communicative with Viktor_ , he reminds himself. There’s no harm in just asking Viktor… _right?._

 

**Leo de le Iglesia**

Yuuri, thanks again! It worked! Also, Alex called me back and said he’ll be in touch to get his phone back.

 

Right, then. No mystery there. Yuuri isn’t even going to bother replying back. Seeing the message on the lock screen is enough. He smiles, reaching for his own phone to text BB about his triumph over anxiety and temptation: _You’re going to be so proud of me today. I’m going to initiate communication with my husband. Granted, it’s not about anything big, but baby steps, right?_

 **Bae** **❤**

You’re going to be so proud of me today. I’m going to initiate communication with my husband. Granted, it’s… 

.

 

**I Eat Pasta**

Yuuri? You okay?

**Yuuri**

Oh shit. I'll call you later? Dealing with something.

  

.

“This is Sara.”

“Hey, it’s Yuuri,” he sighs into the phone. His mind is still whirling from the morning. From his spot curled up on the floor of the nursery, he can hear Viktor shifting pans and skillets to make them a fancy breakfast. It would be a lot more endearing if Yuuri didn’t have so many questions.  

“Oh, hey! Everything okay? You left really fast.”

“So, I found a phone in my living room that I’d never seen before.”

Sara waits patiently for Yuuri to continue. This is why he loves her. When he doesn’t continue, she presses him with a simple: “Okay?”

“Like tucked into the corner of the sofa arm. Turns out it belongs to my friend Alex, who is the boyfriend of my friend and Viktor’s best friend Chris. As in Christophe Giacometti. I’m always here, Sara. Well, almost always here. I’m the happy little _fucking_ homemaker.”

“ _Yuuri_?” Viktor calls for him, “Lapochka, are you alright?”

“Fine!” Yuuri yells back, resuming his whispering. “Sorry, I have to be more discrete.”

“Oh my god,” Sara gasps. “He’s not! Please tell me he’s not cheating with his best friend’s boyfriend!”

“Worst.”

“Worst? _Someone else_? Oh my god, Yuuri! I am so sorry!”

Yuuri doesn’t even know where to begin.

“So, I sent BB a message, right? It arrived to this phone.”

“Okay…?” her voice falters on the line, “I’m confused.”

“I sent BB a message and it arrived to this phone that belongs to Chris’ boyfriend Alex. So, for a minute I was literally panicking that Alex was BB, except _he_ doesn’t live in our same apartment complex and is currently very busy, not checking his phone because he just adopted kittens with Chris. Not to mention he wouldn’t be taking pictures of me and Viktor at the gym _because_ he hates the gym almost as much as I do, except more. Like, so much more. Also, he called me. It can't be him.”

“Oh my god, yeah, I saw it all on Instagram. They’re so cute! Stormy and Icy. Such cuties. Makes me want to get a cat, but I can barely keep the goldfish alive, you know—”

Yuuri rubs at his temples, almost to the point of hysteria, “Focus!”

“ _Yuuri_?” Viktor tries again, this time knowing on the door. “Pancakes are almost ready, my love.”

“Aww, he makes you breakfast,” Sara coos.

“I’m fine, Viktor! Just leave me alone for five _fucking_ seconds!” Yuuri yells, then stutters, unsure what’s come over him. Well, he knows, but _still_ , the whole name of the game now is subtlety. Apparently, he’s never been very good at subtle, despite his quiet demeanor. “I love you!” he says as an afterthought.

“Yuuri!” Sara admonishes him. “No wonder he doesn’t want to sleep with you. He’s probably terrified!”

“I’ve never actually yelled at him before,” Yuuri groans. “Okay, so Alex can’t be BB because remember he doesn’t have the phone. But I still have a message from BB.”

“Wait.”

“The phone is completely unlocked. I deleted Leo’s message and his calls and left my message and just snuck the phone back into a visible corner of the sofa.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a theory and I was right! My husband is _cheating_ on me. With me. Because my husband _is_ BB. Sara, Viktor is _BB_. Viktor is the one who has been writing all those threads about me online and posting pictures of his own abs and pretending he’s _not_ Viktor Nikiforov. My husband is the _hot_ bodybuilder who wants to fuck me. My husband wants to fuck me. Apparently, my husband has known I want to desperately _fuck_ him for the last _fucking_ month and not once stopped to say: Hey, should we…? And, what! How is this my life?”

“One, that was a lot of fucking. Two, your whispering sounds a bit raspy. I like it. Three, oh my god, what the fuck!”

“And what’s _worst_ is that he’s been pushing me to talk more about my feelings. ‘My feelings’ in quotes, like that’s not wholly self-serving for him.”

Sara gasps, “He played you!”

“He played me. And so now I’m going to get him back.”

“How?” Sara asks. Yuuri doesn’t exactly have a plan. He mostly has an outline.

“I have a plan, but to put it into action, I’m going to need some help. We pick up the girls in a week and I need some 200,000 words worth of fic written before then, a couple of hot emails, some snarky commentary, and I think that should do it? Pretty much, I intend to make him suffer until he caves, without ruining for him the fact that we’re finally bringing the girls home, so I need to be subtle but unrelenting.”

“T—that’s a lot.”

“Which is why I need Discord.”

.

Viktor is confused to say the least. Yuuri sends BB (him) this message that cryptically sounds like he’s going to start by _sharing_ something with Viktor, and Viktor can totally work with that. Once Yuuri starts breaking the dam, they’ll be a flood of communication. He can feel it. So, he makes breakfast, thanks the heavens Yuuri didn’t discover the phone, tries to ignore Yuuri’s bad mood, and waits. It’s all a waiting game now.

Instead, he proceeds to receive a slew of messages:

 

 **Bae** **❤**

So, I think we have a problem.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I can’t stop thinking about texting you.

I can’t stop thinking about texting you my feelings, my thoughts, everything.

I feel like this started being about Viktor, but it’s progressing so much beyond that and I’m starting to get worried.

Just, ignore my messages? Sara thinks it’s just the emotional bridge we’ve built. Hopefully in a day or two, it’ll pass and things can go back to normal between us.

 

 _What?!_ Viktor panics, flipping through the messages on BB’s phone while trying not to faint inside the bathroom. This is not at all what Viktor expected. He’s tempted to march into the living room where Yuuri is cuddling with their dogs, typing on his laptop. “I can’t,” he reminds his mirror reflection, practically whining, “He doesn’t know I’m BB.” – Besides, Yuuri is being self-reflective. He realizes all he needs is a little distance from BB, who is Viktor (who lives with Yuuri, so distance is a little impossible right now, given their bedtime routines). _Distance,_ he thinks, reading over the message again. _No problem. Distance._

He walks back out onto the living room with a strained smile, trying to ease the pitter-patter of his heart as he sits on the sofa by Yuuri and prepares to turn on the television to catch this week’s episode of _Love in the Streets_. Viktor is actually starting to get into it now that he knows all the characters by name and has finished the incredibly long online wiki written up about the mythology of the series. Personally, he is rooting for Tony and Steve to get together, which, he realizes, is completely an unpopular ship and opinion based on Yuuri’s face last week when he mentioned it.

“I read that Tony comes back from Malibu this week,” Viktor tries to strike up conversation, stretching out his arm to rest it behind Yuuri’s head. “I can’t wait to see what happened with Carlos.”

Yuuri keeps typing wildly, ignoring him as he inches away: “Maybe if I add a picture?”

Now _that_ is weird. Yuuri has never avoided Viktor’s attempts to cuddle. Also, Yuuri hates pictures. Photoshoots send him into minor panic. It’s wonderful for Viktor, who then gets to enjoy a very cuddly Yuuri, but somehow Viktor has a bad feeling about the word _picture_.  

“You want some popcorn?” he tries again, pretending his voice isn’t breaking.

Yuuri hums disinterestedly, shaking his head. He holds a finger over the backspace button.

“More tea, lapochka?” Viktor tries with almost saccharine tones. _Why is he ignoring me?_  

“No, I’m trying to work on something,” Yuuri explains, almost curtly as he pulls his blanket away from Viktor’s thigh. Makkachin takes the opportunity to jump between them. Vicchan, on the other hand, completely ignores them both, plopping down on the giant dog pillow he can now claim all to himself.

Viktor nods, “You’re not going to watch Love in the Streets?”

Yuuri sighs, giving Viktor a tired, almost listless look, “I’ll just catch a re-run of it tomorrow.”

 _That_ is nothing like Yuuri. His Yuuri would never say that about his favorite show. The same show he has been watching religiously since before he married Viktor. Naturally, Viktor frowns, leaning his elbow on the sofa’s back, “Is something bothering you, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” Yuuri sniffs, staring Viktor straight in the eyes. “What sounds better to you: _Waiting might seem like agony, but love is timeless_ OR _If love is there, there is nothing we cannot overcome_. Both sound good to me, but it can’t just be good, it has to be perfect.”

Viktor gulps loudly, “Who are you writing to again?”

Yuuri pauses momentarily, giving Viktor an innocent look as he beams, “Oh, no one! Just, you know, practicing my writing again. I have this scene I’m writing and—sorry, I forget sometimes how you’ve never cared about my writing. Or my show, until recently.”

“I… can I read now?”

Yuuri shakes his head. He tucks his laptop back into its usual holder and lightly taps Viktor’s nose, like its something completely natural between them. “Of course not, silly. It’s not perfect yet.”

. 

“You’re going to ruin a perfectly fine adult by giving him anxiety. I actually really like Viktor Nikiforov,” Mila chastises everyone, not even Yuuri in particular. Once again, Yuuri is taking the morning to update everyone on how the next part of his plan is going. Considering everyone has now overcome the shock that he _is_ Yuuri Nikiforov and he’s trying to teach his husband a lesson for trying to catfish him, thing are going exceedingly well. “Also, I finished editing Chapter 3 and wow, did you seriously try to do it with him in his parents’ library?”

“Not one of my finest moments,” Yuuri sighs. “Sara, report on Chapter 4?”

“I have now contributed to the cause and uploaded the latest episode of LITS on Google Drive,” Emil reports, sounding every bit like a giddy soldier. “Please watch it so we can all start talking about Carlos! I have a lot of feelings, starting with—”

“You and Carlos. What’s with your Italian men kink?” Seung-Gil snarks, and Yuuri can practically _hear_ him filing his nails. “Tony, Carlos – isn’t your boyfriend also Italian?”

“We don’t talk about Emil banging my brother on the chat,” Sara reminds them, practically singing as she types away. “Okay, so Chapter 4 was a little angry? Like, I get that he was a jerk and you were doing him a kindness by taking him to the hospital, but the part where you spend a whole paragraph waxing poetic about how you considered taking the defibrillator on his dick for even remotely attempting to cheat on you was a _liiiiiiiittle_ creepy.”

“I was still going through the rollercoaster of emotions from our call when I wrote it,” Yuuri pouts, making some notes. “So, ease up on the hospital fantasy?”

“Just a tad,” Sara deadpans. “I sent to Georgi for a second opinion. And—”

“I thought it was perfect,” Georgi says.

Yuuri makes notes with capslocked, red-font letters: **DRAWDOWN ON THE REVENGE FANTASY.**

“Got it,” Yuuri tells them. “Easing up.” 

“Did you send the dick pic yet?” Seung-Gil interrupts them all.

“Seunggie!” everyone says, practically in unison. Yuuri gulps.

“What? Like you weren’t all thinking it. This man has so far poker-faced his way through ‘I need you’ texting; ‘Can we meet up for coffee?’ emails; and ‘I’m trying to ignore you but look like I’m _not_ ignoring you because I’m emotionally cheating on you’ interactions, and you all still don’t think Yuuri needs to bring out the big guns? Grow some balls, people! – Pun not intended. Put on that flannel shirt and flash him your penis like a shameless lumberjack already.”

Yuuri can feel sweat roll down his forehead.

“Not yet. I was having problems cropping it just right,” Yuuri admits, trying not to give away the fact that he had been chickening out from doing it all morning.

“Cropping what?” Seung-Gil repeats. “Yuuri, you asked for my expert opinion on how to go about doing this and I gave it to you: Flannel shirt on. Pants off. Bit your lip. Hold the dick. Aim down. No cropping or filter necessary, unless you want to go black and white to make it classy. You’re Yuuri Nikiforov. Own it.”

Yuuri’s still not sure what _that’s_ supposed to mean, but it has become Seunggie’s new catchphrase, like being Yuuri Nikiforov makes Yuuri a sexy unicorn, which, again, makes very little sense. But none of these conversations so far have made any sense.

“I once sent a pic of my boobs in black and white,” Mila admits. “Make sure you’re not sweating or else it’s going to look kind of weird.”

“You all really think I should send him a dick pic?”

Georgi speaks up after a while, “Personally, I think it’s a terrible idea. It’s wholly unromantic. When I was with my Anya—”

“I’m sending him the dick pic,” Yuuri says and everyone, except Georgi, cheers.

.

 

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject:

I keep having this fantasy that I wake up in the morning put on my favorite yoga pants, the ones that say _sexy_ right over my booty like a tramp stamp? Remember, the ones you photographed six months ago. And I start running on the treadmill, when you walk in and start lifting some weights – and I just watch you, watching me from the mirror, watching each other, and eventually we give up on the work out. We’re sweaty and hot and you lock the gym door and heft me up with your strong, muscular arms and slam me against the glass wall that connects to the door and we kiss until I wrap my thighs tightly around your waist.

I come in my pants, just from the feel of your body against mine.

 

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject:

I had this dream that we did on the ice at an ice skating rink. And when we were done, you warmed up with a hot shower and we went at it again in the locker room.

 

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject:

I love the fact that you love my body. I wish you’d take a chance and worship my thighs offline, too.

 

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject:

Are you ever going to talk to me again? I miss you. Let’s meet up already and bring an end to this. I think we’ll both like the results.

 

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject: Coffee?

I’m sorry. That was desperate of me. Let’s try again? I just think things would be better if we talked them out over some coffee. I’ll behave. Think it over, please? Coffee at that little shop around the corner tomorrow at 9 am?

.

Yuuri is _fucking_ done with e-mails. Technically, this was supposed to be an easy plan. Rile up his husband a little bit, give him just an edge of doubt, then keep hitting him with _obvious_ signs that he already knew to ease the tension and light a fire under him to come clean. Instead, Viktor is acting really weird around Yuuri now and taking extra-long showers—still without Yuuri, which is the real tragedy.

At this point, Yuuri is starting to consider just sending an email with the word Viktor written in 72 point font. But _that_ would be too obvious.

.

Viktor makes a decision early on _not_ to panic. It’s hard (everywhere). For the past week, he’s been on the receiving end of some very aggressive email campaign from Yuuri to get BB to meet him for coffee—and seeing as that has failed, to titillate him into accepting a coffee meet-up. Viktor considers the whole thing cheap. He’d never thought Yuuri would resort to such tricks.

All in all, Viktor can admit he’s in denial. It’s very possible his husband has now resorted to scratching him out of his innermost fantasies and replacing him with a faceless, nameless bodybuilder that doesn’t actually exist because Viktor is an idiot. He’s starting to understand Yakov. Honestly, he can’t blame anyone other than himself, but this _still_ hurts because for all intents and purposes Yuuri has every intention of cheating on him.

He’d never thought that could happen.

“I just have to stop replying. Ghost him until he gets tired,” he tells the poodles in the park. “That’s all. He’ll give up and just so long as I—as Viktor—step up _my_ game, we’ll go back to normal. Besides, we’re only two days from getting the girls, how much worse can this get? He’s already sent me seven of his biggest fantasies, including one involving an ice rink, which, seriously, guys, BB is _not_ a good ice skater. He cannot give Yuuri what he needs. Not with how much thought he’s put into what he needs.”

Vicchan tries to dig a mound of dirt.

Makkachin simply whines, staring lost at a hot dog cart.

This is what Viktor has resorted to, discussing his crumbling marriage with his dogs.

.

“Okay, but he hasn’t replied at all. He’s stopped texting me,” Yuuri groans, wrapping his blanket tighter around his back. “What if he’s decided his best bet is just to ghost me until I get tired?”

“Then you come at him with the receipts, like bitch, I am here to collect! Take off your pants!”

Mila laughs, “Seunggie no. I guess that’s what the story is for, isn’t it? To force his arm with the obvious if he really hasn’t gotten all the hints you’ve dropped by now. I really thought he’d get it after the ice rink e-mail.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “It’s Viktor. Apparently, either he thinks I’m really going to cheat on him and he’s okay with that, or it’s not Viktor and then I don’t know what to think anymore because I tell you it was all in that phone!”

“I still can’t believe he didn’t even react to the dick pic,” Emil whispers, sounding awed.

“Yeah, that’s surprising,” Sara agrees.

“Well, about that,” Yuuri starts, unsure how to explain.

.

On the day they go get the girls, Yuuri messages BB out of pure instinct. It hadn’t been intentional, but once he’d done it, he’d been unable to stop the feeling of comfort, like messaging a familiar friend. _I probably always felt this way because it was you,_ Yuuri thinks, feeling completely unencumbered by any worries as Viktor takes his hand and kisses his fingers, his knuckles, right down to his palm. All he wants is for Viktor to feel the quickened pulse of his heart. Maybe that will finally whisper to him that Yuuri knows and Yuuri wants—wants _all_ of Viktor, forever.

As angry as Yuuri feels about the whole BB-catfishing-debacle, or BBCD as they call it for short on Discord, knowing that he’d unwittingly met a different part of Viktor (previously hidden by the distance of the Internet and chatrooms and Yuuri’s lack of knowledge) makes Yuuri feel his heart explode with even more love. As it was, Yuuri had always loved Viktor’s caring nature and finesse with words and people. He’d admired Viktor’s ability to care and shape his body. He’d admired his body, period. But BB is the part of Viktor that fiercely cares about others. It’s a softer, funnier, maybe even clumsier Viktor, who gives advice on smoothie diets and writes bad poetry about Yuuri’s lips and helps others find love, the love they, _too_ , deserve.

In a way, on that day, Yuuri doesn’t even feel anger. He just feels joy and hope.

That’s probably why when he looks at his phone again, he decides to send a draft.

.

From: [Yuuri@Nikifor.ov](mailto:Yuuri@Nikifor.ov)

To: [DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com](mailto:DailyRelationshipWorkout@gmail.com)

Subject:

I hope you like it. 

 

Attachment: shh.png

.

The girls are _everything_. Viktor can’t even begin to describe half the emotions he’s feeling watching Yuuri hold Lyubov for the first time. Lilia talks to them both very sternly, explaining feeding schedules and paperwork and something about car seats. She follows a checklist as she talks to them, but everything is jumbled up in Viktor’s head. In his arms, Zoya sleeps, unaware of everything happening around her. Viktor takes a moment to gently brush her light brown hair back. The little tufts feel soft and sparse against his fingers.

Yuuri looks at him, grinning brightly as he holds up Lyubov.

“That is all. Congratulations on your new family,” Lilia says, and shakes their hands.

Once she’s gone, Viktor takes advantage to slide into the empty seat next to Yuuri. He brushes their shoulders together, giving his husband a smile: “So?”

“What happens now?” Yuuri asks, eyes so big, Viktor would mistake them for moons.

“We get to take them home,” Viktor reminds him. And Yuuri leans forward, taking Viktor’s mouth into a kiss so sweet that Viktor’s knees buckle. He’s thankful to be sitting down. “We take them home and then we put them to sleep and then we kiss. A lot.”

“I like that plan,” Yuuri beams. “Can we add a little footnote in there for ice cream?”

“Anything you want, lapochka,” Viktor chuckles.

.

**I Eat Pasta**

You actually sent it?

**Yuuri**

You guys told me to!

**I Eat Pasta**

I don’t think we thought you’d actually do it, especially after you told us your concerns! Oh my god. Yuuri, how sure are you again that BB is Viktor? Because if you’re in any way wrong, you just sent a picture of you looking like a porno lumberjack to a total stranger that posts pictures of you on a body building forum!!!

**Yuuri**

Oh my god. You’re questioning me NOW?

I have receipts! Isn’t that what Seunggie said?

**I Eat Pasta**

WHO LISTENS TO SEUNGGIE! I questioned you when you sent the gym fantasy, but this is waaaay out of hand. You *need* to talk to your husband now.

**Yuuri**

Okay, but I can’t do that right now. We just got the girls and he promised me some make-out time later. I can’t just be all like, “hey Viktor, did you like that dick pic I sent your online alter ego?”

**I Eat Pasta**

You just don’t want to derail your kissing hour.

Fine, but don’t send more dick pics to anyone!

**Yuuri**

Okay. Do you know how to check if I uploaded something to the cloud?

**I Eat Pasta**

OMG. Stop talking. Stop using your phone. Just go become a hermit and never even look at technology again.

.

The first night, the girls don’t sleep and neither does Viktor. He literally spends hours staring at his phone, to the point where he eventually decides that he’s seen enough movies about first-time Dads driving their newborns around the block enough to know that it would be _perfectly_ acceptable to get into a car and drive with the girls to Chris’ house. Yes.

Chris has cats, so technically he shouldn’t expose the girls to untested allergens, but they’ve reacted fine to dogs and pet dander so far. He knows he’s making wonky logic only to benefit himself, but he decides to give it a try because this is an emergency.

As in, an emergency that involves Yuuri, his husband, sending BB explicit photos online.

Yuuri is very lucky Viktor is BB because this could have exposed him to horrible publicity if they’d been leaked. So, Viktor grabs the girls and drives—incredibly slow.

(And, look, he knows Chris is tired of his bullshit. Even Viktor’s starting to get tired of his bullshit, but _this_ is criminal. He stops to take another look at the picture again. That is definitely his Yuuri and that is most definitely a beautiful penis (although Viktor is not likely to believe any part of such a classy picture is photoshopped, although he has been told greyscale hides blurring very well). Back to his struggle: That is a _very_ beautiful penis and Yuuri is just sending out to strangers online and—“They’re beautiful!” Alex says, cooing over the sleeping babies in a stroller even as he yawns and bypasses them completely to drop on the nearest sofa.

Chris gives Viktor a pointed look, “Yes, stunning. But it’s two am in the morning. Couldn’t this wait?”

Viktor throws BB’s (and Alex’s previous) phone at Chris, giving him a pointed look.

Alex crawls over to slide his head neatly onto Chris’ lap. He whistles low and steady as he sees the picture.

 “Congratulations. I am very happy you are finally getting some,” Chris deadpans, throwing the phone back. “We could’ve waited to get the phone back from you at a more appropriate hour.”

“I’m surprised you’re here and not banging— _oh,_ did you come to ask us to look after them for you?” Alex looks at the girls. “I’m sorry, but no. you know our policy on babies. Please do not make us godparents. We will not accept.”

“I’m here because my husband is sending pictures of himself half-naked to another man, who happens to be me, and you all think we’re banging?”

Alex furrows his brows, rolling onto his stomach, “Sorry, but – I’m missing something.”

Chris rolls his eyes, “You don’t know that your husband found the phone, do you?”

“I assumed he figured it out and confronted you. I called him to see if I could get my ‘phone back’ to help you out and he said, ‘please don’t mention it to Viktor. We’re working out some stuff together. I’ll make sure you get it within the week.’ I thought you two were working out, well, you know, seeing as he hinted heavily that he’d seen the phone. He said: ‘I know, Alex.’ And who am I to get in the middle of a couple thing?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Viktor balks. “What?!”

“Like I said, couple thing.” Alex pouts, “Why are you angry at me? He’s _your_ husband!”

Chris sighs, waving Viktor away, “You’ve been had by our adorable Yuuri. Now go home and let me go back to bed, will you?”) 

.

Yuuri wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. Blearily, he pads his way into the nursery to find Viktor asleep on the rocking chair. There’s a little bit of movement inside Zoya’s crib already and Yuuri makes his way over to her. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, lifting her to press her cheek against his chest. She seems content to flutter her eyes, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Behind him, he can hear Viktor stirring.

“Morning Vitya,” he whispers, giving his husband a small smile. “How did you finally get them to sleep?”

“Car ride,” Viktor replies, voice hoarse. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling where the tension pooled throughout the night. “I went to see Chris and Alex. They fell asleep on the way there.”

Yuuri tenses, “Past midnight? _Vitya_.” – A part of him is concerned, but there’s a thrum of excitement that shoots through his spine. If Viktor felt the need to run to Chris, then he must have seen the photo; either that, or something else had sent him into panic. But Yuuri knows better than to ask. Viktor will come to him in due time.

“They’re not allergic to cats?” he offers.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Yuuri panics. “Well, nothing to be done about it now, I guess. Why don’t you go get some more sleep? I’ll sit here with them. I’m sure Zoya will be hungry soon enough.”

Viktor nods, stretching his legs.

“Just for a little bit. Call me if they’re too much trouble.”

“I will,” Yuuri smiles.

.

 

 

 

 

.

Viktor knows it’s the cowardly thing to do. He waits until the girls are napping that afternoon and Yuuri is in the bedroom, typing away on his computer to the soft sounds of classical music playing from his phone. He considers carefully how to do this, but eventually succumbs to the indignation and worry that’s been pooling in his stomach all day. The minute he sends the text messages, he regrets it.

He regrets it even more when he hears Yuuri’s gasp all the way from outside the bedroom.

 _Did you like it?_ – It’s a thoroughly unreasonable question and it makes Viktor feels completely defenseless to the power Yuuri has over him. Technically, it shouldn’t and has never been about Viktor’s _likes_ and _dislikes_. Viktor has known Yuuri was his type from the moment they bumped into each other at that party so many years ago and Yuuri discovered Viktor hadn’t known Yuuri was _Yuuri_. And isn’t that ironic? – Because Viktor still doesn’t know Yuuri’s online persona, even as Yuuri knows his.

Viktor enters the bedroom slowly, dropping his phone by the door. Yuuri looks up from his position on the bed, letting the blanket drop behind him as he crawls to the edge to meet Viktor there—right in the middle. It feels like they’re always stuck somewhere in the middle between what they both want and what they both should do, and right now, it seems to matter so little.

“Of course I liked it. How is that even a question, Yuuri?” Viktor sighs, arms shaking by his sides because even now he doesn’t feel entitled to touch.

Yuuri looks parched, like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Viktor realizes then that he has as well.

“I don’t know if it’s still not clear, but I love you,” Viktor whispers.

“Me too,” Yuuri says, reaching for one of his hands.

“And I _want_ you,” Viktor adds, staring straight into Yuuri’s eyes. “All the time. Not just in my bed, but by my side, when I’m happy and when I’m sad and when I’m healthy or sick. All the time. There isn’t a time when I don’t want you.”

Yuuri licks his lips, “There’s a but coming. I can feel it.”

“There’s no buts,” Viktor chuckles, pulling him closer until he can wrap an arm around his waist. “I want you, have wanted you so bad that I’ve spent the last two years yearning for you so publicly that I even uploaded selfies with bad-lighting at the gym to catch your reflection in the mirror.”

“So _that’s_ what you were doing!” Yuuri laughs, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck. “If it makes you feel any better, I write publicly available erotica about us online. I also write non-erotica about us, but the erotica probably equalizes things more.”

“Apparently, I read it?” Viktor points out with an embarrassed smile. “I swear I still have no idea what your penname is, though. You freaked out for nothing, lapochka.”

“I freaked out because you were about to find out. You’ll probably still find out soon anyway.”

“Will I?” Viktor arches an eyebrow. “Please tell me your selfie didn’t suddenly make it on AO3. I think Lilia will literally skin us if we have a sex scandal and then she’ll take the girls to live with her, and then I’ll grow bald like Yakov—and you don’t want me to lose all my hair, do you, Yuuri?”

“You’re not going to go bald just because I post a dick pic online,” Yuuri scoffs, rolling his eyes affectionately. “But I didn’t. It was for your eyes only.”

Viktor pauses for a moment, clearing his throat, “So, speaking of ‘for my eyes only,’ I should probably tell you now that I kind of had a bit of a panic last night and—”

“Viktor, you didn’t,” Yuuri groans, face turning a bright red. “You _didn’t_.”

.

## Stories on "Live and Love"

_yuurionlove_

 

 **Summary:**  This is the story of how Yuuri Katsuki becomes Yuuri Nikiforov and then proceeds to fall in love with his husband, twice (and feels  _very_ stupid about it). Or that one story where Viktor Nikiforov has multiple online personas and can't seem to keep them out of his personal life to the chagrin of his  _darling_  husband Yuuri (who loves him fiercely, even when he’s being an idiot) **. Dedicated to my husband – may you always keep surprising me.**

.

Yuuri presses a kiss to Viktor’s neck, right against his pulse. He’s amazed the girls are still sleeping, but can’t be bothered to question the miracle when he’s pressed flush against Viktor’s side as they keep talking in hushed voices and between kisses. _Kisses_ , Yuuri’s inner camel reminds him, like he hasn’t been thirsty for more in a dessert filled with kisses, only kisses. _Inner camel. I should use that line somewhere._  

“I should’ve just told you on our honeymoon,” Viktor whispers. It’s still a bit of a shock for Yuuri to hear that the real reason behind his two-year dry spell is the very and main reason he’s married in the first place: The _damn_ contract. “I just didn’t want to pressure you. So much had happened—”

“Okay, but I wanted to bang you in a library,” Yuuri reminds him.

“Yes, but you’d also been told since you were four – _Yuuri, here is Viktor, your husband-to-be!_ And, honestly, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Fine, but I also went to every single one of your competitions with a giant banner and an even bigger boner.”

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor gasps, heart-shaped smile on full display. “Scandalous.”

“I’m just saying that there was zero reason for you to believe that I would have felt any type of obligation to sleep with you.”

“I didn’t say it was _logical_ , okay? I just felt a lot of guilt. Guilt does not make for fun, healthy sex, okay? And then the first year came around and we hadn’t done it and the lawyer would remind us, _only nine more years_ , and I would panic. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Had I known,” Yuuri brushes Viktor’s hair back. “You realize now I’m not going anywhere, though, right? Eight years from now? Ten, twenty, thirty, I’m going to be right here, Viktor, writing erotica about you and me.”

“And I’ll probably still be reading it,” Viktor chuckles. “I just. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get that. But this is something I can totally work with.”

“Yeah?”

Yuuri nods, clearing his throat: “Viktor Nikiforov, will you do me the honor of accepting to divorce me so we can give our parents heart attacks and then get married all over again so we can raise our wonderful babies and have a lot of sex together?”

Viktor laughs, staring up at the ceiling, “You’re joking. Your parents would probably be super supportive about it, but mine? Mine would kill me.”

“That’s why _I’m_ doing the asking, Viktor,” Yuuri tells him somberly.

Viktor focuses on Yuuri’s face, “Wait, are you serious?”

“I hate that contract as much as you do. I hate that it makes us feel weird about our marriage, that it shadows how you and I feel about each other. Hell, I hate that it makes us lie to some of our friends and people that don’t know the truth about how we met and why. I want to show you that marrying you and being with you is _never_ an obligation for me, Viktor.

Because I love you.”

. 

**I Eat Pasta**

You posted the story!

**Yuuri**

Yup!

**I Eat Pasta**

And you changed the title and the summary!

**Yuuri**

And the ending. :)

**I Eat Pasta**

Does that mean you two…? Finally…?

**Yuuri**

Nope. But we will. First, I just have to give my mother-in-law a heart attack, tell my parents I’m getting a divorce so I can get married _again_ , and then get myself some really good lawyers. It’s very likely my father-in-law is going to sue me.

**I Eat Pasta**

Wait, what?!

**Yuuri**

The things I do for dick. I mean love.

But also dick.

Can you tell I’ve been talking to Seunggie all morning?

**I Eat Pasta**

OMG YUURI

**Yuuri**

I’ll tell you guys all about it later! Gotta go change diapers.

**I Eat Pasta**

Good luck!

 

. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER!


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently AO3 is deciding to not save the entire chapter for publication. Apologies if some of you have been receiving multiple publication notifications. <3 You can find on Tumblr at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com and twitter at @CMFWritings.

Here’s what Yuuri now knows about Viktor’s online habits:

  1. Viktor  _loves_  fanfiction. Apparently, Viktor has been reading fanfiction for a while now because an online fan forum of his used to have a fanfiction section with some poorly written porn of the two of them, including a very imaginative one in which Viktor fucked Yuuri on freshly resurfaced ice. Apparently, there was a sequel that involved a Zamboni. Yuuri discovers almost immediately he is not  _at all_  opposed to trying  _that_  out.
  2. Viktor has  _definitely_  been following Yuuri’s AO3 account. (“Okay, but how was I supposed to know it was you?” he whines when Yuuri points out that  _yuurionlove_  is a pretty obvious username, until Viktor redirects him to some 150+ other  _yuuri_  usernames that exist on AO3 and Twitter and even Tumblr.)
  3. Viktor legitimately enjoys giving out love advice to random strangers. He even has regulars, like that one guy in Detroit hiding out from this other guy running an online campaign to find him after they danced together at a wedding reception. Apparently, there’s some desperate cases out there—which makes Yuuri feel so much better about their love life.
  4. Viktor should probably brand his green smoothies by now, given how popular they have become. (Also, Yuuri finds that he is strangely okay with Viktor continuing to pretend he’s  _not_  Viktor Nikiforov and maintain his BrickBooty identity. Viktor needs friends and the BFB community means a lot to him. “You can take only one picture of me at the gym a week, though,” Yuuri tells him while feeding Lyubov her bottle.)
  5. Viktor has a really long list of websites and articles on parenting. It’s cute. It’s also thoroughly unhelpful.



Here’s what he didn’t want to know:

“Hm. If I enjoy reading stories with BDSM elements, does that mean I’m into kink or  _into_  kink?” Viktor muses out loud as Yuuri pads out from the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt. It’s not exactly the type of question Yuuri had expected right before bed, but the potential answer to that question excites him—even if he can’t tell his husband just yet.

“Can you please stop reading now?” Yuuri sighs, sliding into his side of the bed. The girls are finally down for the night, and Viktor has taken full advantage of that to read on his phone, again. “We have to make multiple trips to the airport tomorrow and I’m not even sure I can feel my brain anymore.”

“But I’m finally getting to the good part,” Viktor whines as Yuuri plucks the phone from his hands and sets it on his bedside table. He stares at it longingly, and Yuuri worries his husband has become a fanfiction addict. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he tries again.

Yuuri takes advantage of Viktor’s pout to kiss him, gently. He savors every second, letting his fingers trail gently down the side of Viktor’s cheek until he has full leverage over his chin. Viktor sighs gently against Yuuri’s mouth, chasing his lips as he draws away. It warms Yuuri’s heart, filling him with love so strong that it makes him tumble forward.

 “Go to sleep, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers, pressing their foreheads together. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

Viktor nods, smiling, “right. Good night, lapochka.”

.  

Getting their parents to New York is easy because they all want to meet the girls.

Now, the actual experience of having their parents visit them is nerve-wrecking, because 1) Viktor’s mother thinks their penthouse is too small (which it is, but has also worked fine for them), 2) she is exceedingly pushy about getting them to move to St. Petersburg (and start taking on the family business, which is a very specific reference to Viktor’s family business), and 3) she absolutely  _hates_  Yuuri’s simple, homey décor. Yuuri feels the last one like a personal judgement, given that it has been his job to keep a tidy house for Viktor.

“No matter,” she says, taking Yuuri’s arm like they’re walking down fifth avenue, “we’ll go shopping later.” – And Yuuri looks at Viktor with obvious urgency. He has no desire to redecorate their apartment or go shopping with his mother-in-law.  

Viktor gives him an apologetic look.

On the other hand, Viktor’s father is exceptionally happy to inspect his granddaughters, lifting them at arm’s length and watching as they loll out their tongues and blink in confusion. “Russian,” he says with a sense of pride underlying the gruffness of his voice before he brings each of them to rest on his shoulder. The girls look more like Yuuri than Viktor, but Yuuri understands Viktor’s parents love the idea that the girls share in some part of their Russian heritage. The girls take turns, of course, neither minding much the inspection. “You did a fine job, boys. They’re strong. I am sure they will be wonderful heirs.”

There’s no way for any of them to know that the girls are  _strong_. They’re certainly healthy and adorable, but  _strong_  is a strange adjective for babies. Yuuri lets it slide, exchanging looks with his sister. Mari rolls her eyes, lifting her box of cigarettes to signal to Yuuri that she’s taking a short break outside. Yuuri doesn’t even smoke but he almost wants to follow her.

“This one is Zoya, Yuu-chan?” Hiroko asks her son, bouncing the baby gently.

Yuuri nods, “We still have problems telling them apart since they’re identical. The little ribbons on their ankles help us. Green for Zoya. Yellow for Lyubov.”

“I wanted violet and pink,” Viktor pouts, hands itching by his sides to take back the girls.

“Green and yellow are nice colors, too, Vitya,” Yuuri reminds his husband, reaching for his hand.

“So,” Viktor’s mother interrupts, a glint in her eye, “about dinner tonight. I think we can all agree that there is no way this apartment can adequately host five additional people around the dinner table.”

“Our dinner table expands,” Viktor offers. His mother has always thought they paid too much for their apartment and always resented they didn’t ask them for money to buy something more  _accommodating_ to their privileged circumstances, but Viktor likes the life they’ve built. Yuuri had had roommates in the city before they got married, preferring communal living to an isolated existence in an overly large penthouse. This apartment had felt like a nice compromise. It was in a good location, close to everything they needed, with exceptional twenty-four-hour concierge service, and good, normal, pet-friendly neighbors. Besides, it wasn’t like they both didn’t rely on family funds for other things, including their respective closets. “Honestly Mama, we’d prefer to have dinner here. We have something to discuss with all of you and it’ll be better here.”

She steamrolls on: “I think it would be best if we find a private room at a restaurant in the city, don’t you think, Hiroko?”

Hiroko nods, “I agree. It’s obvious you boys are tired. We don’t want to inconvenience.”

“We were going to cater the dinner,” Yuuri whispers, losing his grip on the situation.

“That’s settled then,” Toshiya nods. “If the boys want to have dinner here, we will be guests to their exceptional hospitality.”

“Agreed,” Gustav replies, clasping Viktor’s shoulder. “I think I have a good idea as to what the boys may want to discuss.”

.

None of them have any real idea of what Yuuri and Viktor want to raise, which means the news of their pending divorce and re-marriage hangs in the air thick like fog. Yuuri tries to break the silence by asking Viktor to pass the butter, but then Victoria Nikiforova does a better job by fainting and sliding off the side of her chair right onto her husband’s lap. Hiroko is the first to stand, yelling out a “oh my, Vicky!” before trying to use a cloth napkin to fan her.

Mari keeps eating, sneaking a piece of bread underneath the table for the dogs. Yuuri can hear Vicchan dancing for bread. The whole thing feels like a bad joke.

“Is this a joke?” Gustav booms, glaring at Viktor. “Do you realize what this would mean for us, Viktor?”

“Don’t blame Viktor, please. It was my idea,” Yuuri whispers, hands shaking. “We just feel the contract is getting in the way of our happiness. Disbanding it doesn’t mean we would stop being married. We want to remarry. We want to be together with the girls.”

Hiroko blanches, “Yuuri.”

“Father, hear me out,” Viktor tries.

“If you do this,” Toshiya says calmly, cutting into a small, stubby caramelized carrot, “you put us all in very uncomfortable situations. Legally. We realize we put you both in an uncomfortable position to begin with, but as mergers get more difficult, this seemed like a profitable option for us all. It is a true blessing you both care for each other so much, but the contract is strictly a legal instrument. Yuuri, you understand we would potentially lose everything.”

“But we would still do what you both want,” Yuuri points out.

“It’s just not that simple, son,” Hiroko whispers.

Victoria stirs in her seat, fluttering her eyes open. Disoriented, she clings to her husband: “Oh god, I thought I heard that the boys wanted to get a divorce.”

“We do,” Viktor confirms.

And Victoria’s eyes proceed to roll back until all they can see is the white in them and she falls onto her husband’s lap, her cheek hitting the table’s edge in the process. The conversation is pretty much over by then.

.

“Look,” she says to them later, much later, stern and angry as she presses a pack of frozen peas against her cheekbone, “we have all taken a moment to confer about this and call our respective lawyers. We have decided that, as your parents, we support your right to be happy and make your own choices as adults and raise your children in the marital state of your choosing.”

“Oh Mama, thank you!” Viktor beams, reaching for Yuuri’s hands.

“Not done, Vitya,” she tisks, huffing. “As your parents, we support your adult decisions. As the owners of multi-billion-dollar multinationals, we have come to the conclusion that it is in our best interest to disown you both.”

“Wait, what?” Viktor blinks.

“We can’t keep you from doing what you want,” she explains, “but to protect and separate company interests from a gruesome division during your ‘divorce,’ seeing as we didn’t make you sign pre-nuptial agreements and, stupidly, wrote in some very ridiculous clauses around the time commitment required for your marriage, we were told that disowning you would be a strong enough sign of protest that we could contest any decision by a court to try to divide your assets.”

“We don’t intend to ask for any assets,” Yuuri protests. “We just want to be married without a contract, without obligation.”

“As neither of you now have assets, stock, or financial support from either of us, by all means, please do as you please,” Hiroko says, bubbly as ever.

“But we have the girls now,” Viktor blanches. Neither of them had exactly considered the potential of losing their limited assets.

“You’re a successful athlete, Vitya,” his mother grins. “I’m sure you can support your family. Besides, you’ve been paying this place just fine on your own.”

“And Yuuri can get a job,” Toshiya nods. “It’s time he put his degree to use. There’s no need to worry. We’ve already frozen all your access to family accounts and credit cards so you don’t need to call the banks yourselves. We realize how busy you are with the girls now.”

“The cost of childcare alone is going to eat us alive,” Yuuri panics. It’s not that they’re in any danger of being legitimately destitute, but Yuuri has never  _not_  had a black Amex in his pocket, thanks to his parents. Viktor has solid assets and Yuuri has made sure to make intelligent investments for their retirement, but that was for the  _future_. Without a job, this puts Yuuri in a very uncomfortable position. He will have to depend on Viktor. And, with both their shopping habits, things were about to get a little tight—or as tight as it could get for two trust-fund babies without trust-funds and new babies. “We were just about to buy a larger place,” Yuuri says, hoping he can entice Victoria into changing her mind.

“A four bedroom. Penthouse. Great views,” Viktor tries as well, growing desperate.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you, boys,” Victoria beams. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Love isn’t cheap,” Gustav grins. “Not to worry. We have not disowned the girls.”

“We’re just going to put everything into a trust they can’t touch until they’re twenty-one,” Victoria adds.

And Mari simply squirms in her seat.

.  

 **VN:**  [Selfie of Viktor holding up a series of shopping bags, including a very iconic Armani paper bag.]

 **CG:**  Wait, you went shopping? I thought we discussed how budgets work yesterday!

 **VN:**  The girls still need diapers. And I needed condoms…

 **CG:**  And the Armani bag?

 **VN:**  It’s Emporio. Like, I technically went to an outlet. And it’s for the girls. You should be proud I’m acclimating to my new lifestyle…

 **CG:**  By purchasing $80 baby shirts?! Also, it doesn’t count if the flagships don’t sell baby clothes.

 **VN** : In this weather? What kind of father do you think I am? They’re $185 sweatshirts. It was a sale!

 **CG:**  I’m telling Yuuri

 **VN:**  Traitor

 **CG:**  Did you already tell him about your inexperience?

 **VN:**  I mean, do I really have to if I just study really hard?

 **CG:**  Study… how?

.

“Thanks, Yuri,” Yuuri beams, thanking their after-school bell boy as they reach his apartment door. Yuri makes some noncommittal sound, barely making eye contact with Yuuri as he sets the grocery bags down and takes the tip offered to him. Yuuri gives him a bright smile, waving until he sees Yuri disappear down the hallway. “How are you two doing?” he asks the girls, leaning down to check inside the carriage. The two girls stare at him, barely awake. “Hm. Time for a nap, isn’t it? I bet Daddy will be happy to put you both down to sleep.”

He doesn’t receive a response as he opens the door to find Viktor scrolling through his phone again.

“Meeting with Yakov go okay?” Yuuri asks, pulling the girls into the apartment before going back out to get the grocery bags. Viktor jumps to action almost immediately, kissing Yuuri’s cheek and taking them from him.

“He thinks I can definitely get a few shows scheduled but laughed at my idea of coaching. He thinks I’m nowhere near marketable for  _that_  and told me that, unless I’m thinking of returning to competitive skating, I need to start making some decisions. I’m getting too old to hit runways. I’m definitely not too old and worn out for the ice,” he whispers, letting his hand massage his left wrist. Yuuri’s eyes follow the movement. “I don’t have a degree like you, Yuuri.”

“Hm. He obviously hasn’t seen how the BFB family worships you,” Yuuri chuckles, taking the girls out of their carriage. “Maybe you should just patent your green smoothies and start selling them. Maybe make them into a powder? I could help.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Viktor sighs, rubbing at his temples.

Yuuri stares at him for a long while, “You know we’re not in bad financial shape, right? Viktor? Like, neither of us could work and we’d be okay. You did so well for yourself.”

“But now you need a budget for the wedding,” Viktor points out.

“A budget isn’t a terrible thing. So, now we have a set income. Big deal. I hope you don’t think I’m mentioning the green smoothies because I think you’re not bringing enough income home. I’m more than happy with what we have.  I just think it’d be a good idea to show your parents that we’re smarter and more capable than they think, especially with how talented you are, Viktor.”

Yuuri blushes, faint pink dusting over his cheeks. Viktor tries to focus on stocking their pantry.

“You’re talented, too, Yuuri,” Viktor tells him. “I don’t know that I would have as much as I do right now if it wasn’t for your careful handling of all our finances and investments for the last couple of years. You built this, just as much as I did. Only you did it significantly faster.”

Yuuri nods, smiling, “I know. We did this together and we’re going to keep doing this together. And, honestly, I’ve been thinking about the wedding, and maybe we can just have something small and intimate, just you and me. It’s not like we want the whole world to know anyway. Just us. Technically, I already had my Cinderella wedding.”

Viktor sighs, finishing up and walking around the counter to kiss Yuuri’s forehead, “If that’s what you want?”

“It is,” Yuuri reassures him. His expression changes quickly, though. A glint shines in his brown eyes. “Now, where are the $200 baby sweatshirts Chris told me about?”

Viktor groans, “Okay, but before I disclose their location, are we keeping them?”

“Depends on if they even fit them. You know they’re growing daily,” Yuuri reminds him. “But, also, you realize we could’ve bought them 5 sweatshirts each for $200, right? Someday I’m going to show you the magic of Target.”

.

 

## Let Me Break the Ice

_yuurionlove_

 

 **Summary:**  After making a joint decision to wait for marriage, Yuuri and Viktor have been waiting impatiently for their honeymoon. Yuuri has quite a few ideas as to how he’d like things to go. Or that one story in which Yuuri fantasizes shamelessly about roleplaying with his new husband during their honeymoon and almost gets them arrested for indecent public exposure.

.

“I can’t believe I missed all of that!” Isabella whines once she’s rejoined the Discord group. “I swear, you miss a few weeks on the Internet and you come back to your friends talking to a celebrity about having sex with his other celebrity athlete boyfriend. 

“Well,” Sara commiserates, biting her lip, “you had stuff going on. Important stuff.”

“And you came back for the group video chat, which is really the best part of all of you knowing I’m actually  _me_ ,” Yuuri points out. “It’s really nice  _seeing_  everyone for once.”

Isabella stands up, showing off her small baby bump: “Especially so you can all be the first to see this! It was like magic. One day it’s all flat and then… poof!”

“Ah!” Mila screams, leaning closer to the screen. “Baby bump! Oh my god! Izzy, look at you!”

“Well,” Yuuri says, proud as he looks away faintly. He turns his camera to show the twins resting on his bed. While Zoya sleeps, Lyubov has proceeded to try to stuff a bear plushie’s paw into her mouth: “Since we’re sharing, let me introduce you to these two.”

“Look at them!” Georgi sobs, hiding his face between his palms, “This is so perfect.”

Emil grins, “They’re real heartbreakers, Yuuri. Congratulations!”

Seung-Gil sniffs, “Okay, so big deal: When do I get to show you all my dog?”

“Seunggie,” Mila admonishes, “You said you’d be supportive…”

“I mean, I’m 100% supportive of exchanging dog pictures. I have a really cute one I just took of Vicchan and Makkachin napping!”

“Oh my god, Viktor Nikiforov!” Mila squeals. “Is this  _actually_  happening right now?”

Yuuri laughs, feeling as Viktor presses his cheek against his for the benefit of the camera. “Oh, right. Guys, this is my soon-to-be ex-husband and fiancé!”

“Wait, you’re actually doing it?” Emil blinks.

“I mean, they’ve disowned us either way,” Yuuri shrugs. “We might as well go ahead. But we’ve decided we’ll just have a civil ceremony after we finalize all the paperwork. Our lawyer said he thinks the court should approve soon. We don’t want this getting out. Not to mention we need to be a little more conscious about our spending.”

Viktor nods, pouting, “It’s hard being poor.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps, horrified. Considering the girls are collectively wearing someone’s paycheck in clothing, Yuuri wants to hide under a blanket and burrow for at least a decade that his husband just told his hard-working friends that they are  _poor_.

Sara cringes, “Poor _er_ , maybe?”

“I want to kiss your stupid face,” Seung-Gil declares, staring stupidly at Viktor. “Okay, but someone fight me that that’s not the smartest thing anyone has said on this chat ever. I think he deserves a trophy because, yes, I regularly think it’s hard being poor and I’m not technically considered poor by the government. But, honestly, they haven’t seen my closet. It has been deprived. You want to see pictures of my dog?”

“Yes!” Viktor clasps his hands together, waiting expectantly.

Seung-Gil leans closer to the screen, “Do you read fan fiction?”

“Oh my god, yes! I love it! I’ve been reading ALL of Yuuri’s stuff.”

“Do you ship Tony and Charlie?”

“Ew, no. Steve and James or Tony all the way!”

Seung-Gil nods, “Okay, yes, we can keep him.”

And Yuuri accepts that his husband has just been adopted by his group of friends.

. 

Yuuri has had a lot of time to think about  _fucking_  his husband, as in legitimately just bending each other into fancy, exceptionally taste and salty pretzels and, well, doing the things he’s been writing about in his stories for months. When the lawyer calls to tell them that they may have to  _wait_ , since there’s a lengthy line of people waiting to get legitimately divorced forever and the judge is completely unsympathetic to their shenanigans (or request for privacy), Yuuri makes an executive decision that they can’t wait  _months_  to fuck.  _Right_? – Not that Yuuri is  _desperate_  to make use of the lacy underwear he bought after writing  _Lace_ last week. He’s just eager. It’s normal. They’ve been married and pining for two years. Or Yuuri has been pining. His brain is a fog of hormones and dead boners at this point. Today is exceptionally worst because he spent half the morning running behind Viktor in Central Park (and didn’t that bring back memories of mornings at the gym pretending he was  _literally_  chasing  _that ass_ ). All that to say, Yuuri’s not sure they should keep waiting for re-marriage anymore.

“I mean, if you want to,” Viktor offers nervously. And, yes, Yuuri wants to, but he also senses a strange aura of concern emanating from Viktor that makes him wonder if his husband still doesn’t want to fuck him—for other reasons.

“Well, I want to, but do you want to, Viktor?” Yuuri asks him, sipping on some red wine as they ignore the commercial break for the newest episode of Love in the Streets. In all honesty, Yuuri couldn’t take one more rejection. But, for Viktor? – For Viktor, Yuuri has done crazier things, would do crazier things,  _anything_.

“I want to,” Viktor says, but the trepidation in his voice sends a prick of concern running through Yuuri, “it’s only that…”

Yuuri’s not sure what he’s expecting from Viktor. Maybe Viktor  _does_  have a submission kink and wants Yuuri to dominate him? – Which Yuuri could do that! That’s only fantasy #34885045, but Yuuri could bring it up to #1 if it will get them places. Or maybe Viktor is ashamed of his special needs or… concerned that Yuuri might be inexperienced? The voice inside his brain laughs because Yuuri has been writing porn about them for two years and dreaming about them together for many more before then, to the point that Yuuri had made it a  _very_  explicit point to get in enough practice to ensure he wasn’t the  _boring_  husband. Yuuri might not have been an athlete, but he’d read plenty about the Olympic village. He wanted to impress.

“Only that?” Yuuri repeats.

Viktor flushes a bright pink, “… I’m not very experienced?”

“Oh.”

Yuuri was not expecting that. Out of all the things, Yuuri wasn’t expecting  _that_  all.

“Okay, so no gymnast AU or porn star AU, got it. I can work with this,” Yuuri whispers to himself.

Viktor frowns, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re inexperienced,” he repeats, jumping from the sofa. “So, when you say inexperienced, what exactly does that mean, like, and I hate to use the term, like what spectrum of virginity and experience are we discussing here? – Actually, hold that thought. I need to call Phichit really fast. I think we need a babysitter.”

.

Here’s the problem: Viktor knows the basics. He’s just not sure how to put them into practice. He had, after all, only done this once and  _barely._  There’d been lube involved, hands, fingers, and then thighs. Viktor had loaned his very nice thighs to the pleasure of someone else and received a nice set of orgasms in return, but nothing beyond that—nothing that involved an actual penis inside him or putting his penis inside someone else. By no means was Viktor a virgin, but he certainly wasn’t sure one time should count as being a master of sex, either.

He tries to put all of this together in words for Yuuri. And Yuuri? – Yuuri listens attentively as Viktor soaks in the bath tub and tells Yuuri about his one time and intermittently moans when Yuuri’s fingers massage his scalp. He tells Viktor to “get comfortable” and to “relax,” but that’s hard when Viktor’s hands won’t stop shaking as he explains what he knows and what he doesn’t know and what he’s only ever read about and— “But you liked it?” Yuuri asks him, careful as he tries to discern Viktor’s nerves as tension and not fear. And isn’t that so typical of Yuuri, to care so much about Viktor to reassure him so seamlessly.

“Yes,” Viktor nods his head fervently. It’s not like sex with Yuuri isn’t something he hasn’t fantasized about before, or even considered several times in the loneliness of the last two years. “I feel like I know what to do, just not  _how_  to do it.” 

“But you do want to… well, do?” Yuuri studies him closely.

“Well, sure, but…”

“I don’t mean tonight, unless you want to,” Yuuri explains, reaching for a soft towel. He wraps it gently around Viktor’s forehead and hair. “Just in general. I don’t want to push you or pressure you into anything, Viktor. I wish you’d told me earlier because  _this_  makes a lot of sense. You’ve been dealing with a lot of feelings and I would’ve wanted to help, if I’d known.”

Viktor takes hold of Yuuri’s right hand, pulling it down so he can kiss his knuckles.

“We’ll just have to learn together?” Viktor smiles softly.

All things considered, it’s going to be nice, being with Yuuri and learning about pleasure together. Now that the  _secret_  is out, Viktor isn’t sure why he was so nervous about it at all. He nuzzles Yuuri’s hand with his cheek.

“Of course,” Yuuri presses a kiss on Viktor’s cheek. Viktor can feel the curve of his smile. “And don’t you worry, Viktor. I promise I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Viktor nods lost in a haze—until he realizes the implication of Yuuri’s words.

.

Here’s what Viktor thinks he knows about Yuuri:

  1. Yuuri graduated from Harvard. According to Phichit, who was Yuuri’s college roommate, Yuuri had a reputation for working hard and partying harder, which meant they were invited to a lot of parties. A lot of them. For some reason, Viktor always assumed that meant Yuuri could get a little loose with his drinks—which made sense since Yuuri didn’t have great alcohol tolerance.
  2. Again, Yuuri doesn’t have great alcohol tolerance, when it comes to certain types of alcohol, including champagne and white wine. But beer and sake are apparently just the type of things an American-Japanese boy thrive on. And boy, does Yuuri  _thrive_ , if there’s loud enough music and a pole lying around. Viktor weeps for the losses his younger self experienced on deciding not to go to college.
  3. Yuuri may have had a couple of short-term boyfriends here and there before Viktor, but according to Phichit, they had all been incredibly short-lived.
  4. Apparently, short-lived meant one-night stands. And Viktor hates himself a little for not connecting the dots when Phichit was trying to drop information like a downpour in the middle of July during their last brunch.
  5. Yuuri is the king of writing porn. He has a Discord group full of people writing odes to his description of blow jobs. It’s strangely intimidating.



And here’s what he is about to find out:

  1. Yuuri is  _not_ magically and naturally gifted with knowledge of the Kamasutra and specialty yoga and pole dancing. He had to  _work_  for that knowledge—and he did it all for Viktor, which is  _also_  incredibly intimidating.
  2. By default of the information above  _and_  the information Viktor technically also knew and chose to ignore, Yuuri is  **not**  a virgin,  **was**  never a virgin during his marriage with Viktor. Viktor is still so confused as to how he could have ever thought his seductive little porn-writing machine was a virgin.



So, Viktor ponders all of this. He sits cross-legged on their bed, hair still dripping over his exposed shoulders as he wonders whether he should be looking up porn to get re-acquainted with the potential order of things before Yuuri wrecks him, with his permission of course.

. 

**I Eat Pasta**

OMG. YOU’RE GONNA DO IT TONIGHT THEN? RIGHT NOW?

**Yuuri**

Yes. He said he wanted to. Phichit’s got the girls for another few hours. Just got out of the shower. I’m still in denial that this is actually happening!

**I Eat Pasta**

Good luck, my friend! TOT Make us all proud!

. 

Yuuri has a vision of how their first time can go.

For one, he has to go slow and gentle and help Viktor realize that he has nothing of which to feel any shame. He also has to give Viktor an amazing night, in approximately three hours so he can then go run and pick up the twins from Phichit’s apartment just a few blocks away. It’s a good thing Phichit isn’t going out tonight, but Yuuri also doesn’t want to take advantage of his friend. This means that Yuuri doesn’t have time to watch his husband fumble with a bottle of lube, much less give him the space and time to dump half of it onto their sheets and a few squirts on Yuuri’s eyes. They didn’t even need the lube yet, but Viktor’s attempts at opening the condom packets with his mouth had also ended in almost tragedy.

Yuuri reconsiders his strategy. He hasn’t had such blurry vision since before he got Lasik.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri!” Viktor panics, returning with some tissues to help.

“It’s fine!” Yuuri tries to reassure him, patting his eyes dry enough to see in slivers and run to the bathroom to wash his face. He trips on his way to the bathroom, scrambling to get up as he throws a shoe out of his way. “You just relax, okay?”

(It’s not fine. Viktor is extremely nervous. By default, Yuuri feels like he’s going to throw up.

Yuuri almost considers calling the whole thing off when, as they’re kissing, he notices that Viktor isn’t quite angling their dicks together right, even though he’s trying—and Viktor’s dick isn’t even inside Yuuri’s ass yet. There’s an element of fear that rushes through Yuuri then, because Viktor’s inexperience and overzealousness could hurt him if they’re not careful. Without time on their side, this might be a bad idea altogether.

In fact, when he thinks about it more closely (and isn’t it a shame to be thinking when Viktor’s actually doing something  _right_  and so  _nice_  with his mouth on his pulse point,) there’s an aspect to sex that is supposed to be natural and instinctual, but not necessarily straightforward or common. And wasn’t that a problem, because Viktor had amazing instincts. He knew how to kiss Yuuri just right. He knew how to run his hands down the sides of his waist in a way that mimicked the butterflies flapping around his stomach. But all of that wasn’t going to easily translate into the other things, not when Viktor was poking his stomach with a very hard erection.

 _I can’t just tell him he’s rutting against my abs,_  Yuuri reconsiders his strategy, again.  _But I also can’t let him keep doing that because it’s starting to feel like he’s trying to penetrate my belly button._

This is better. This is easier. It’s not like Yuuri hadn’t envisioned being the one inside Viktor, right? Right. Why did they even consider trying it the other way first? –  _Because your husband has never had a dick up his ass and may feel nervous about having something bigger than a few fingers in there?_  “Now’s not the time to think about that,” Yuuri says to himself, finding that he’s staring up at a very bland ceiling.

“What?” Viktor stops, hips ending mid rock.

Yuuri clears his throat, reaching to press his hands on either side of Viktor’s face to bring him in for a kiss. He sits up, slowly pushing Viktor back until he can crawl between his outstretched legs.

Viktor looks confused, sitting on their bed with Yuuri admiring him, brushing his hair back so he can have a good look at his eyes. Yuuri lets his other hand rest on Viktor’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“Viktor, I think you’re doing so amazing. And believe me when I say I can’t wait to have you inside me—”

Viktor gulps loud then, his face growing incredibly hot. Yuuri suddenly realizes Viktor has come from praise alone, which is a marvelous discovery, except right now it just feels like the universe is laughing at him. He looks down between Viktor’s legs and then at his own erection still resting against his lower belly.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri tells him, already reverently reaching down to dispose of Viktor’s condom. “You’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you tonight. I promise. Okay?”

Viktor nods, voice almost inaudible as he squeaks out when he feels Yuuri’s lips press small kisses against his abs, “Okay. Yes.”)

.

 

**I Eat Pasta**

Yuuri? Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a whole day.

**Yuuri**

Hey, sorry. Things just didn’t go quite according to plan yesterday. I had to go get the girls from Phichit and their schedule was super thrown off, so they kept crying throughout the night and finally started sleeping in the morning and it is honestly such a blur right now.

I’m on my sixth cup of coffee today.

**I Eat Pasta**

Oh? Well, did you and Viktor at least have fun…?

 **Yuuri**  

It’s a long story. I’m preparing a towel for some hot compresses for Viktor. I think he pulled a muscle or something.

 **I Eat Pasta**

OMG Yuuri!

**Yuuri**

Trust me. It’s not what you think. I swear I think my pelvis hurts a little. It was like playing Newton’s third law ping pong with thrusting. And I tried to hold his hips down a little, but he just, he was very enthusiastic…

. 

Viktor has never felt happier in his life. He also feels little guilty because it’s almost lunch time and he has yet to move from bed because he can  _still_  feel Yuuri and it is glorious. That does mean his husband has been keeping their daughters entertained on his own for most of the night and the morning. Viktor considers standing, but then realizes he might have pulled a muscle or something. They really had been quite enthusiastic—and Viktor had discovered a lot about himself, including his love of praise, his natural talent for rhythm, his nipples’ sensitivity levels, and, of course, his profound appreciation for Yuuri’s dick. That last one was the real winner, rivaled only by the nipples thing.  _Wow was Yuuri good with his mouth._

(Yuuri had been an absolute delight, starting from the moment he didn’t laugh at Viktor almost cutting his tongue on a condom packet or for the way he kept fumbling with the actual condom. Thankfully, their water-based lube hadn’t blinded Yuuri, but it had made for a slow start to what then kicked off an  _incredible_  night, at least for Viktor. He would honestly never recover.

But the feeling of Yuuri inside him – it wasn’t something he was ever going to forget, not with the way Yuuri’s fingers gripped at his hips or the way he kissed Viktor, drinking every moan greedily from his lips. The very thought made his toes curl now.)

A knock at the door forced Viktor to lean on his elbows.

“Come in,” he said, smiling softly when Yuuri walked in with a few warm towels. “Hey.”

Viktor wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stop saying  _hey_  whenever he saw Yuuri now. Honestly, it was starting to feel embarrassing. Viktor could just  _feel_  the dopey vibe he was giving off whenever he looked at Yuuri—Yuuri who seemed almost uncomfortable as he shuffled into the room and motioned for Viktor to lay on his belly so he could rest the towels throughout his back.

The moment he felt the warmth on his skin, Viktor melted.

“That feels amazing,” Viktor groaned. “Thanks, my love.”

“Of course,” Yuuri says. “It’s the least I could do. Next time will be easier. And better.”

Viktor looks over his shoulder, “I don’t know that it could get much better. It was pretty amazing already. You were  _everywhere_.”

Yuuri flushes red, giving Viktor a nervous smile, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself?”

“Of course I did! Didn’t you think our chemistry was amazing?” Viktor stretches.

“It was, uh, something alright,” Yuuri sighs, kissing Viktor’s forehead. “Rest up, okay? – I want you feeling all better soon. And I already have ideas for this weekend. I’m thinking we can go on a date. Maybe get an actual babysitter. Do this again, if you’d like—”

“YES!” Viktor nods rapidly. 

“—and maybe take our time. Go slow. Gentle. Not quite so frenzied,” Yuuri tells him.

 

. 

Look, Yuuri isn’t giving up on great sex with Viktor, not now that he’s  **finally** had sex with Viktor. In a way, Yuuri feels bad for his husband. If Viktor had, in fact,  _loved_  their first time having sex together, Yuuri was  _not_  going to ruin it for him by pointing out all the terrible things they both had done—including Yuuri not telling Viktor about the almost-bellybutton-penetration debacle. That said, Yuuri now had first-hand knowledge of Viktor’s strengths, which included fantastic flexibility, amazing kissing ability, and a truly first-class beauty of a dick. The fact Viktor didn’t know how to use it well was just semantics. They could overcome that together, especially because Yuuri had: 1) plenty of research evidence documenting Viktor’s kinks, thanks to his recent fic binges; 2) firsthand knowledge that Viktor  _loved_  praise, to the point of coming from it alone; 3) a good idea that Viktor didn’t at all mind being told what to do; and 4) a perfect example that Viktor was fine with Yuuri taking control. All in all, Yuuri could handle a second attempt with Viktor and coach him through sex in a way that would be mutually enjoyable and beneficial.

“Thank god for kinks,” Yuuri sighs, typing frenziedly.

Viktor sets a mug of tea next to him, “what was that?”

“How do you feel about dinner, dancing, and then a night at home?” Yuuri asks him. “I was thinking tomorrow night. Sara and Chris and Alex said they can take turns with the girls. Sara doesn’t mind keeping them overnight.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Viktor beams. “Should I wear something nice?”

“Yes, and I’m even giving you permission to pick out my outfit,” Yuuri smiles.

Viktor’s eyes widen in excitement. He claps his hands together, jumping at the opportunity to go raid their closets. Now that he knows Viktor will be entertained, Yuuri continues to google a few restaurants. This was going to be fine. He could feel it.  

.

 

 **CG:** Remember to have fun and wear protection, kids!

 **AM:** Sara, change of shift at 9 pm, right?

 **VN:** Send pictures of the girls, please!

 **SC:** Yes! I’ll be there by 9 pm latest for them.

 **YN:** But not too many pictures or we’ll miss them too much and want to pick them up tonight. We’ll be there tomorrow morning at 9 am. Thanks again.

 **SC:** No worries!

.

 

A dancefloor is the perfect training ground for rhythm. With Viktor in in his arms, swaying together to the sound of smooth jazz, Viktor’s jack-rabbit pelvic motions from four days ago feel completely surreal, like the after fog of a bad dream. Yuuri is definitely no longer worried about a repeat, considering they’ve always been good dance partners together. Viktor takes a moment to twirl Yuuri before dipping him expertly. Yuuri smiles, letting his hand rest on Viktor’s lapel: “You’re having a good night?”

“The best night,” Viktor sighs. The song comes to an end and the couples on the dancefloor take a moment to applaud. “I feel bad that I still miss the girls, though.”

Yuuri hums in agreement, walking Viktor back to their table.

“I miss them, too,” Yuuri confesses. “I think that’s probably normal, though. I keep reminding myself we’ll see them tomorrow. They’re probably having a great time doing one of three things – napping, eating, or crying.”

Viktor smiles behind the rim of his coffee cup, “You forgot pooping. I can’t believe you forgot pooping. We go through a lot of diapers, Yuuri.”

“Between the dogs and babies, I don’t know how we’ve managed to keep sane,” Yuuri laughs.

“Oh, I know,” Viktor deadpans. “Fanfiction.”

Yuuri blinks, considering the response.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

Viktor chuckles, “Am I ever?”

And Yuuri decides to bite his tongue.

(They get home about an hour after they finish dessert, and Yuuri almost feels too full to move. But the expectation is there, hanging in the air. He can tell from the way Viktor sits on their sofa like he’s guarding himself. It’s like he’s preparing himself for what comes next. Yuuri slips off his jacket, resting it on one of the armchairs before he sits next to Viktor.

“You know,” he whispers, reaching with his hand for Viktor’s own, “just because we had sex doesn’t mean that’s what’s going to happen every time we’re alone together.”

Viktor looks at Yuuri: “You don’t want to?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “No, I totally want to! I just meant to say that I’m okay with whatever you’re okay with. And I’m never going to be disappointed over one of our old make-out sessions.”

It’s something he’s wanted to say from the beginning. He’s wanted Viktor to know that the expectations haven’t changed. As far as Yuuri is concerned, the very idea of being married to Viktor feels like plenty. For months Yuuri has been trying to figure out how to put into words the different between _enough_ and _plenty_ , the way in which being near Viktor is enough, but being _his_ is plenty. It’s the difference between being together and being married. For Yuuri, being married to Viktor is everything—and sex is just another facet of that mutual ownership. A part of him feels weird for prioritizing possession, except that, for Yuuri, to deny himself that hunger would be like failing to admit that he never wants just Viktor in fragments. He wants him whole, from the crinkle of his smile to the sound of his laugh and the feelings that reverberate down his spine when Yuuri kisses his lips.

He wants everything, all the time, in a way that has taken him months to comprehend is selfish.

Yuuri never wants to hurt Viktor with his selfishness.

Viktor reaches with his other hand to squeeze Yuuri’s knee, “I want everything with you. I always have. Please don’t think my, uh, nerves are ever me saying no. I’ll tell you when it’s a no, but I’m just… so relieved we’re now here.”

“Me too,” Yuuri says, almost breathless.

“I guess I got a little worried because we didn’t go straight to the bedroom? I thought maybe I was the only one that thought—”

“—I didn’t want to pressure you. You’re still working this all out.”

“But I’d like to go into the bedroom now, if you want,” Viktor offers softly.

And Yuuri stands, pulling Viktor by the hand into their bedroom. 

The process of preparing Viktor is quickly becoming an art for Yuuri. He loves the way he’s able to feel Viktor’s body welcoming him, like he’s urging Yuuri to come inside and stay for a while. There’s a peace to their speed tonight that wasn’t there earlier in the week, and Yuuri wonders if maybe their first experience was less the result of Viktor’s inexperience and more his enthusiasm and concern that he had to keep Yuuri entertained. Tonight, Yuuri makes sure Viktor knows how every small moment is perfect.

“I love doing this for you,” Yuuri whispers against Viktor’s forehead, relishing the keening noises Viktor leaves against his neck as Yuuri digs his fingers deeper. “Do you like this? Dip your hips a little, just as if you were rolling through a wave. Just like that. A little lower, and a slower. So good, Viktor.”

“Yes,” Viktor breathes out, licking his lips like he’s parched.

“Do you want to try to ride me tonight?” Yuuri extends an invitation. “And later, if you’re not too tired, would you like me to ride you?”

And Viktor gives him a resounding yes to the feeling of his body constricting around Yuuri’s fingers and his voice hoarse and heavy saying the same. Yuuri loves that about Viktor, how vocal he is in bed. It’s like he’s discovered another reason to lose his husband, as if he needed more.)

.

Viktor gasps like he’s begging for air to enter his lungs. He keeps his hands clasped over Yuuri’s digging into the meat of his hips. Yuuri has never seen Viktor follow instructions more beautifully, outside of the ice. It’s easy to get lost in the way Viktor digs his knees into the bed whenever he’s preparing to lift and grind back down. Yuuri keeps the rhythm for him, lifting his hips gently before pulling down. With each thrust of Yuuri’s hips, Viktor falls apart, barely able to keep his thighs from shaking around Yuuri’s lap. When he loses his stamina, Yuuri kisses his cheeks, letting him recover his breath as Viktor presses their foreheads together.

Viktor looks just a little lost, like he’s drowning.

“You want me to help you?” Yuuri asks, already wrapping his hand around Viktor’s cock. He lets his thumb glide over the condom, pressing at the very tip until he can feel the top of Viktor’s dick.

Viktor nods, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder in submission. Yuuri appreciates the arch of his back, watching his skim tremor with every pump of his hand.

“Okay, just relax for now. Let me do all the work now,” Yuuri tells him, pushing Viktor onto his back and hoisting one of his legs higher, until it rests almost near his ribcage. Viktor covers his forehead with a shaky arm, and Yuuri admires how his chest rises and falls with the depth of his breaths.

When Yuuri thrusts inside Viktor for the first time, Viktor’s whole body moves. His lips barely shake with the sound of a moan that sounds nothing like Yuuri’s name. It’s just a sound, abandoned and ripped from Viktor’s throat. It’s gritty in a way Yuuri could’ve never imagined, in a way that he didn’t get to enjoy the first time they did this.

Viktor lies there, still, a smile on his face in between the waves of his pleasure. And Yuuri can tell, counting his breaths, the quakes of his stomach, the shakes of his thighs as he keeps pummeling into Viktor’s body.

“Oh my god,” Viktor cries when Yuuri hits his prostrate harder and Yuuri grins with satisfaction. His pelvis moves almost mechanically, searching for more of the same sounds, and Viktor rewards him readily, each time with more emphasis than the last. His hands search with abandon around the bed and dig into the sheets, pulling them for leverage like he might find any. “Oh my god, Yuuri. Oh fuck, Yuuri.”

“You want to help?” Yuuri asks, taking one of Viktor’s hand to wrap it around his own dick. Viktor keeps his eyes locked on Yuuri, hand barely moving. “You’re doing so good, Viktor. I think you’ve rested enough. Move with me. Touch yourself. Let me see you.”

Viktor tries to match him. It’s not always perfect. Sometimes, it verges on clumsy the way his hips grind too low or cant too high, but Yuuri finds that it doesn’t matter. Viktor is trying, keeping his eyes trained on Yuuri – and touching himself only for Yuuri’s eyes. And Yuuri realizes for the first time that when Viktor comes, he closes his eyes and bites his lip, like he’s savoring the very taste of pleasure and the feeling of Yuuri buried deep inside him. Yuuri drinks in the sight, equally parched for his own pleasure as he keeps up the pace until eventually he’s coming, hips pistoning and eyes drowning in the sight of blue eyes blissed and fogged.

.

Of course, better isn’t perfect. Round two is a little messier.

Yuuri knows Viktor isn’t going to become a master of sex after two attempts, but Yuuri will be damned if he doesn’t turn his husband into a veritable dream PWP main character by the time they’re done. Yuuri rests comfortably with his hips raised lightly by a thin pillow and his thighs wrapped around Viktor’s waist. The heels of his feet tap a rhythm on Viktor’s lower back: “A little harder,” Yuuri orders Viktor, a gentle hand cupping his husband’s face. “You’re doing so good, Viktor. Ah, yes, okay, now let’s aim a little deeper? Yes, yes, like that. Now try again.”

Viktor frunces his brow, a look of absolute concentration as he thrusts into Yuuri. Sweat pools down his bicep and Yuuri takes a second to enjoy the way his face twists when Yuuri bites his bottom lip and squeezes his right nipple.

“Oh,” Viktor groans, losing his rhythm.

“Keep going,” Yuuri says, just a little breathless. “Just a few more minutes and then I’ll ride you, okay?”

“Okay,” Viktor smiles, reaching down to kiss him.

.

**Daily-Relationship-Workout**

**TheKingJJ** asked:

My wife is pregnant. She’s been really demanding in the bedroom lately. The other day she told me I haven’t actually improved much at all in the bedroom in the years we’ve been together, which crushed me but also has given me incentive to improve! Any suggestions?

_Hey TheKingJJ! This one is difficult. Obviously, it’s great that you both have open enough communication that she feels comfortable enough in sharing that with you – even if it’s taken her a while to bring it up. Why not offer to follow her instructions next time you get intimidate? Who knows better than oneself what feels good, right? Make it into a fun game. You will only do what she tells you to do – you’re bound to learn a lot! Good luck!_

_-Daily Relationship Workout_

 

.

The divorce comes through after three more months. The wedding comes after three months (for the divorce) and two days (so Yuuri’s friends can travel down). Apparently, neither of their parents have any intention of giving them their inheritances back for now. Viktor finds that he doesn’t quite miss the idea of his inheritance, not with Yuuri dressed in a white suit looking at him like he just hung the sky. They each hold one of the twins in their arms as the magistrate reads through some official lines and then makes them sign more paperwork.

Seung-Gil is the first one to cry, loud and blubbery. He mistakes Mila’s silk scarf for a handkerchief. Meanwhile, Emil keeps looking disgusted that his boyfriend brought with him a green smoothie (and Viktor worries for a minute that he has yet to patent his recipe). It’s a mess. Viktor laughs and kisses Yuuri once, twice, maybe one more after that until Zoya gets impatient and starts trying to pull at Viktor’s earlobe.

“I’m so happy we’re all here,” Seung-Gil keeps crying, petting Makkachin and Vicchan in equal intervals. Georgi joins him in crying, thick mascara lines running down his face as he says, “me too!”

Leo stares at the scene with confusion, but Yuuri definitely knows his best friend and points out to Viktor the way Phichit seems to be studying Seung-Gil’s profile—and Viktor doesn’t even have the heart to correct Yuuri that Phichit is very much staring at a crying man’s ass. Chris doesn’t have such qualms.  

“Special delivery,” Sara beams and hands her phone to Yuuri. She takes Lyubov from Yuuri’s arms. Mila does the same with Zoya.  

“Izzy!” Yuuri smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she pouts. “Sad I couldn’t travel to see you guys, but this pregnancy is proving a bit more difficult than we expected. Send me the wedding registry, though. I’ll have to send you guys something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Viktor grins, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “We’re glad you’re still here online.”

“The magic of technology,” she jokes.

“Is that a hamster in his pocket?” Seung-Gil yells, and Viktor decides to go check on the commotion before they throw them out of the courthouse.

.

Zoya and Lyubov still don’t seem to have any actual appreciation for their nursery, which makes sense, seeing as they’re only months old and probably used to seeing the space by now. In a way, it’s both wonderful (because it means they feel at home) and tragic (because Viktor and Yuuri spent a lot of time on the wall clouds). Viktor’s not sure  _what_  he expected, but it was definitely a little more squealing and clapping and less sleeping – “They’re not old enough for anything beyond a lot of sleeping and eating,” Yuuri reassures him, pressing a kiss against his nape as he slides past him with Zoya in his arms. She kicks out her little legs in her onesie, so obviously in love with her other parent.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Viktor asks, confused.

“You have a very readable face,” Yuuri winks, doing a masterful version of the baby dance before depositing Zoya into her crib.

Lyubov doesn’t seem as happy with the idea of bed time, getting impatient and gnawing against Viktor’s shoulder.

“My love, this is a Valentino,” Viktor tells her softly, as if that means anything. He softens when she presses her head under his chin, whining and shaking her fists. “You have good taste; really good taste,” he compliments her gently, which seems to appease her momentarily.

Yuuri laughs, going over to help him, “I think you need a rag.”

It’s hard for Viktor not to focus on how good he looks. He’s been looking  _good_  all through their wedding and their after-wedding date, seeing as a honeymoon wasn’t possible right now with the girls. But right in that moment, he just seemed to glow.

“For what?” he says dumbly.

“For your shoulder,” Yuuri shakes his head, already helping to add it under Lyubov’s little mouth. “See? Better.”

Viktor smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

Yuuri lets his hand softly caress Viktor’s shoulder and down his arm as he passes him by: “You’re welcome.” – And Viktor will admit he’s completely taken by surprise when Yuuri leans forward and kisses him. “See you soon?” he whispers.

And Viktor nods dumbly, unsure when his tongue started feeling so swollen or where his words have gone. He can only watch as Yuuri strips off his suit jacket and then loosens his tie.  _If he only looked at me with half the smolder he’s giving that camera, my life would be complete_ , he thinks, quoting an old post he’d once made over in BFB. It’s definitely true, considering how alive he feels when Yuuri gives him that soft, half-lidded look before departing the nursery.

“I think your father has plans to kill me tonight,” he tells Lyubov, who simply stuffs her fist into her mouth. “I realize your thing is  _morning_  sleeping, but I’m kind of hoping you can try  _nighttime_  sleeping, like your sister, just for tonight. Not that I don’t  _adore_  our sessions with the rocking chair. But, just for tonight, I think we should have a rain-check.”

She seems amused. And for the first time, Viktor sees her give a gummy smile around her hand.

.

## First Timer

 **brickbooty**

**Summary:** Despite his reputation as a former playboy, Viktor Nikiforov has very little actual experience in the bedroom. Cue Yuuri Katsuki teaching him everything he needs to know about life, love, and sex. Or the fic in which a mystical, green smoothie-drinking gym instructor helps two of his clients bang.

**.**

**BrickBooty** : So, what did you all think? :D

 **Viking:**  Bro. This was hot.

 **BrickBooty:**  THANK YOU!

 **MickeyYouCFine:** Why is there now Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov fanfic on the forum?

 **YuurionHealth:** I think the better question is why isn’t there more? Bravo, BB! I loved it! Next time, though, more banging.

 **BigSlim:** You two dating yet?

 **BrickBooty:** Me and YOH? Maybe…

 **Viking:** Shit, for real? But Yuuri Nikiforov, bro?

 **BrickBooty:**  It’s okay. I’ve got my own Yuuri now. He’s even helping me patent my green smoothies.

 **YuurionHealth:** **❤**

 **BigSlim:** Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to bank on that for years! Do you know what a timesaver it would be to have that shit in powder form?

 **MickeyYouCFine:** Speaking of the green smoothies, anything we can do to make them taste better?

**The End**


End file.
